The Fun and Perky Warrior's Wolf Tail
by Lavanya Six
Summary: A storehouse for my various short stories related to AtLA. Now featuring "Two Lessons," wherein the role of Katara's older, non-bender sibling is played by Toph.
1. Not Fade Away

**NOT FADE AWAY**

Aang stood before the bowl of water, moving through a waterbending kata with careful deliberation. The bowl's water tilted gently from side to side, swaying in time with the Fire Nation ship.

"Come _on_," he hissed through clenched teeth. "WORK!"

The water did not bend.

* * *

_"The Avatar," Gyasto had told him, "is called to maintain the world's balance. It is the work of a lifetime, but do not despair, Aang. You will not be alone. You will have your friends, those you love."_

_"Great," he muttered, glaring down at the court where his so-called 'friends' were playing Airball. "I'm SO glad I signed up."_

* * *

Screaming in rage, Aang kicked the clay bowl. As the bowl arced through the air towards the cabin wall, its water spilled everywhere... before freezing in place mid-flight. The bowl hit the wall and shattered.

The bended water shocked Aang for a moment but then he sank to his knees, drunk with relief.

"Aang?"

He snapped upright and twisted his head around. Katara stood in the doorway to his cabin, absentmindedly weaving one hand through the air as she gathered up the levitating water and froze it into a small ice block at her feet.

"What's the matter, Aang?" she asked, concerned.

"H-how long were you standing there?" he asked.

"Long enough to see you abuse that poor bowl. Wh--"

Aang didn't hear the rest. He collapsed onto the cool metal floor, howling in anguish.

* * *

_Katara had asked, "Why didn't you tell us you were the Avatar?"_

_Aang answered honestly, "Because... I never wanted to be."_

* * *

Katara had to bring Sokka down to help lift him off the floor. Aang couldn't stand, didn't want to stand. Aang didn't answer their questions. He didn't speak for hours. Katara stayed with him all night, leaving only for a half hour to deal with some commotion on deck. There was trouble with a Fire Nation ship that had come up alongside them.

Aang was pitifully glad that everyone wanted to keep him out of sight.

What could he do to help anyone now?

His friends thought he was in pain; that he couldn't deal with the trauma of Azula shooting him through with lightning. It was even true in a way.

When Katara returned, he waited until she fell asleep to slip out. He had to move carefully for fear of waking Katara, who was a light sleeper, but Aang was still a twinkletoes if nothing else.

The Water Tribe men who saw him smiled, thinking they were seeing the Avatar up and about at last. The hope in their eyes made Aang's heart hurt. At least they left him alone on deck with the breeze and the moonlight.

More than anything, he needed to talk to someone who would understand. He couldn't bear to disappoint Katara or the others. Not yet. But Gyatso was long dead and Roku... was too, now. That left only one person he knew. Aang looked up into the sky. "What do I now?"

The Moon was silent.

Aang run a hand through his short hair. "Right."

* * *

_"If you are killed in the Avatar State," Roku had said, "the reincarnation cycle will be broken and the Avatar will cease to exist."_

* * *

The next morning Aang called his friends into his cabin. He didn't want to tell them but he needed to put a stop to the invasion plan before people deluded themselves any further.

"When Azula shot me," Aang explained, "I was in the Avatar State. And when I d-died, I was in the Avatar State."

"Yeah," said Sokka, "and then Katara healed you."

"I know, but... it was too late." His friends stared at him, not understanding. He had to force out the next words, not wanting to say them and make it official. "I came back to life. The Avatar Spirit didn't. I can still airbend but that's it. I'm not the Avatar anymore. The Avatar... is dead."

Silence.

"You can't bend water or earth?" asked Toph.

"No."

"Have you, y'know, tried not being a wuss about it?"

Aang glared at his friend. "Yes, Toph. I have!"

She threw up his hands. "Okay! Okay! Sheesh, I was just asking."

Katara covered her mouth. "This is horrible," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Aang! I-If I had been faster--"

"No," he cut her off. "It's not your fault, Katara. It's mine." Aang bowed his head. "If I had kept better track of Azula, she would never have gotten the drop on me."

A heady silence fell over the cabin.

"...Okay," said Sokka. "Well, this changes the invasion plan a little."

"A little?" asked Aang, incredulous. "How am I supposed to face the Fire Lord now?"

Sokka grinned at him, like Aang had just told the funniest joke in the world. "You're still a master airbender, yeah? And the last time I checked, we have a world-class waterbender **and** the greatest earthbender ever."

"Aww." Toph slugged Sokka's shoulder. "Flatterer."

"Ow," said Sokka.

"But I'm not the Avatar anymore," Aang insisted. "I'm just the last airbender."

"So?" asked Toph. "Like Chuckles said, we'll just do it together." She cracked her knuckles. "A three-on-one fight against a powerless Fire Lord sounds _awesome_!"

"Yeah," said Sokka. "Besides, what's the big deal? Everyone in the whole world KNOWS you're the Avatar."

"But the Avatar Spirit di--"

Sokka gestured to the closed cabin door and the world beyond it. "They don't know that."

Aang frowned. "Wait, you're saying we lie about me still being the Avatar?"

"No," said Katara, a grin spreading across her startled face. "Sokka's saying we _fake_ it. Toph and I can cover for your earthbending and waterbending. We don't tell _anyone_. People will still have hope in the Avatar!"

"You're all CRAZY!" Aang shouted, stumbling to his feet. "Don't you get it?! I'm **not** the Avatar anymore! There is no more Avatar! _IT'S ALL OVER!!"_

"I'll _never_ give up, Aang," said Katara. She came over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. Looking him in the eye, she said, "I'm not going to give up and let the Fire Nation win. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't keep fighting. And we may not have the Avatar anymore, but we still have you. And _you_ have _us_."

Sokka poked his head around Katara. "Yeah, what she said."

"I'm with Sweetness," piped up Toph. "Fight 'em 'till we can't!"

Katara asked, "What do you say, Aang?"

* * *

And Aang considered.

The waters were still. The earth did not move. The Spirits were silent.

On the plus side, he would never have to be afraid of burning Katara again.

Hope seemed impossible. Even with the Day of Black Sun, how was he going to defeat the Fire Nation without the rest of his powers? It made more sense to turn the ship around, maybe find someplace far away, a remote island or an oasis in a desert, and hide away forever.

He wasn't the Avatar anymore. He was free to just be a kid again. He could let the war be someone else's problem. After all, if the Fire Lord was going to be powerless then anyone could fight him. It didn't have to be Aang, the last airbender.

But...

But the world had fought the Fire Nation for a hundred years when the Avatar had deserted it. Even after the fall of the Earth Kingdom, the people of this ship were still fighting on. His friends were still going to try, even knowing what he'd lost. Gyatso had gone down fighting when things must have seemed hopeless. None of them had been the Avatar. They had still fought for the people they cared for, for the Balance.

Avatar Aang had had to do it, but Airbender Aang had a choice.

And Aang knew the right choice to make.

* * *

Katara asked, "What do you say, Aang?"

After a long moment, Aang nodded. "Let's do this."


	2. The Natural Daughter of Somebody

**THE NATURAL DAUGHTER OF SOMEBODY**

Midori's first memory is of sitting in her uncle's lap, looking across a Pai Sho board at her mother. She's four or five. There's a pleasant odor of tea in the air. Midori remembers thinking how pretty the painted tiles looked.

She reaches for the piece with the three-legged raven. Her uncle gently takes hold of her wrist and keeps her from messing up the game in play.

* * *

The spring of her eighth year, Midori has a surprise for her uncle when he comes for his annual visit. She waits in her mother's shadow as they welcome Uncle into their little house, which buds off from the printing shop her mother owns.

"Jin," says Uncle, kissing Mom's hand. Mom smiles like a cat at the gesture. It's an expression that Midori wishes she could imitate but can't. They aren't much alike. "You are looking lovely as always."

"Oh, Mushi. Always the flatterer."

"~Mom~!"

Her mother gently rests a hand on top of Midori's hair. "Mushi, your grand-niece has something she's been dying to tell you."

Uncle hunkers down on his knees. "Oh?"

"I'm a _BENDER_!"

"You... bend?" he asks, with a touch of wonder. Midori can tell he's impressed. She grins. He looks up at her mother.

"Don't worry," Mom says. "Show him, baby."

Nodding firmly, Midori stomps the ground. A chunk of rock breaks off the stone floor and levitates into the air.

Uncle stares, dumbfounded, but then a broad grin breaks out across his face. "That... that's very impressive, my little earthbender!"

She's still showing off the little tricks she's picked up in the last few weeks when Mom whispers to Uncle, thinking Midori isn't listening, "This makes things easier, you know."

"In some ways," murmurs back Uncle.

* * *

The next day, she and Uncle go for walk through the winding footpaths of Taku. Midori leads the way, though Uncle makes them stop, like, every twenty feet to browse through a vendor's stall or a knickknack shop.

Taku is both a new city and an old one. Destroyed in the early days of the Great War, it laid fallow for almost a century until the territory was given back to the Earth Kingdom at war's end in exchange for conceding sovereignty to the larger Fire Nation settlements in the Five Occupied Provinces. Midori knows this because Taku is filled with unhappy refugees from the land the Fire Nation stole.

It's mostly the adults who care about stuff like that. Midori and her friends grew up in Taku in the years the decayed city lifted itself out of the grave. The Great War is ancient history. If a bunch of bitter old men and women with burn scars want to rough up traders from the Fire Nation, Midori hopes they're at least smart enough to do it in the back alleys where the city guard can't see.

Eventually the two of them end up in a little park. Uncle takes a seat on a bench -- "My old bones are _weary_," he groans melodramatically -- and watches as she and a couple of other kids play a pickup game of Earth Soccer. Midori loves it because it gives her a chance to show off her earthbending. Not three months ago she could only sit with her friends and watch as the benders played. Now _she_ can bend. Her teacher said she had 'real talent'. Midori likes that idea. She wants Uncle to see how good she is at earthbending.

It isn't hard to do. Midori is amazed how the other kids just didn't see how the soccer ball will angle off the rock pillars. Are they blind? Or just stupid? Midori had picked that stuff up the first time she played. Now she can ricochet it off her pillars at crazy angles and dance around the other kids.

Midori leaves her own teammates in the dust, single-handedly racking up a string of goals in minutes. After the game is over, one of her teammates, a pig-tailed girl, runs up to her and says, "Hey! Why were you hogging the ball?!"

"I wasn't hogging it! I was winning the game!"

Instead of saying anything, the girl shoves her. Midori shoves back. The pig-tailed girl doesn't take it lightly, hitting Midori in the shoulder with a sloppy punch. In turn, Midori slugs the girl across the mouth. She staggers back. The rest of the kids gather 'round, cheering them on. Before the other girl can recover, Midori moves to strike her again. When she draws back her fist, however, it's caught in something firm. Spooked, Midori turns her head.

Uncle glares back at her. "That's enough!" His word is enough to silence the bloodthirsty circle. He lets go of Midori's hand. "Apologize to this girl."

"B-but--!"

"_Now_, niece."

Skin flushing with embarrassment, Midori turns away from her uncle and faces the pig-tailed girl with the bloodied lip. She chokes out, "I'm s-sorry."

* * *

Later, they sit together on a park bench.

Uncle rests a hand on the small of her back. Midori's first instinct is to push him away. But this is Uncle and he and Mom are the only people who would never hurt her. Uncle says to her, "You know, you have your mother's eyes, but there are times when I cannot help but be reminded of your aunt."

Midori perks up at this. "I have an _aunt_?!"

Uncle nods. "She was a... juggler like your father."

"Really?" _Was everyone on my father's side except Uncle a circus freak?_

"Really."

"What was her name?"

"...Hotaru."

"'Aunt Hotaru'," Midori whispers a little breathlessly.

"It is strange but sometimes it seems as if you are your aunt reborn. It is unfair, I know, but the physical resemblance is uncanny." Uncle strokes his beard. "And there is more. You share her relentless drive for perfection, her love for her parent--"

Midori asks, "So Dad and Aunt Hotaru were only raised by their mom too?"

Uncle smirks. He wags a finger at her. "Sharp too. But not quite right. After your grandmother passed away, your father and aunt were raised by your grandfather. Lee and his father did not get along, but Hotaru was close to him."

"What about you?"

"Lee and I... we didn't spend much time together before he left the circus. Hotaru and I were never close."

"B-but you said I was just like her! You still love me, right?"

"Of course!"

Midori relaxes. Straightening her shoulders, she declares, "That's acceptable."

Uncle laughs. "I am glad you find it so."

"So why didn't you and Aunt Hotaru love each other?"

The characteristic twinkle in his eyes dims. More solemnly, he explains, "Your grandfather -- my brother -- thought I was a bad influence, and your aunt and I had different opinions on... well, everything. She was passionate but I don't think she ever cared about how the things she did affected other people." Uncle deflates. "Nowadays I cannot help but wish I had tried harder with your aunt. I helped your father. Perhaps..."

Midori has never heard of a mean-spirited juggler before. "Is that why you got angry at me for hitting that jerk?"

"Ah," says Uncle, "but why did she shove you first?"

"Because she's mean."

Uncle arches an eyebrow.

Midori hunches forward. "Okay," she says after a few seconds, "I didn't pass her the ball." Midori adds, "But she's a horrible player! I was winning for the team!"

"Were you? Or were you playing for your own satisfaction?"

She scowls. "What's satizz... satis--?"

"For your own selfish enjoyment."

"Oh." A pause. "But I'm _better_ than her. So I should be the one with ball!"

Uncle asks, "How would you feel if another, better earthbender wouldn't let you have the ball during a game?"

"I'll be the better one," she mutters, staring angrily at her bare feet. Since she'd started earthbending, Midori has steadfastly refused to wear shoes. _Everyone_ knows the greatest earthbenders walk around barefoot. "I should be the best."

"Being the best isn't enough if you don't have love, niece. Your father strove to be best at juggling even if he lacked your aunt's raw talent."

Uncle goes on, "Lee was the most honorable man I ever knew, and I do not say that just because he was your father. Lee struggled to do the right thing. There were times he failed but, in the end, he made the right choices. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his friends. Lee knew power is nothing without love, something I couldn't teach your aunt."

"I wish my dad had done the wrong thing," Midori says, staring at her dirty feet. "Then he'd still be here."

Uncle Mushi leans over and hugs her. "I'm sure if he had the choice to be with you, my little earthbender, he would be."

Rather than say anything, Midori just hugs her uncle back.

"Try to remember what I said today, niece."

"I will, Uncle."

Hand-in-hand, Midori and her uncle walk back home.


	3. When You've Bowed, You Leave the Crowd

**When You've Bowed, You Leave the Crowd**

When she had turned twelve the previous autumn, Seronok had moved out of the open dormitory she had always shared with her agemates. Suddenly she had a cell of her own, even if she had to share it with another person. To her everlasting regret, Seronok's roommate was Epal.

Epal's name meant 'apple', and Seronok was reminded every time she stared at those ruddy dimpled cheeks. Epal also meant trouble, even if that definition wasn't in any dictionary. Seronok's cellmate angered the monks and nuns by trying to sneak in forbidden, worldly things: magazines with the latest Earth Kingdom fashions, make up, or even sticks of salted jerky.

Seronok, who held the value of joy and balance in her heart of hearts, always suffered through the regular lectures the nuns gave her roommate. Seronok was sure that someday Epal would cross the line and be thrown out of temple. Then Seronok would have her own cell and be free to become the proper Air Nun she knew she was destined to be.

This was not to say that Seronok thought herself guiltless. In some ways, she was worse. After all, the nuns never suspected her of being the girl who owned the only transistor radio in the whole Southern Air Temple.

Seronok had won the radio during a group visit to Omashu. After she and the other choir members had finished their performance for the 559th Remembrance Day festival, Epal had pulled Seronok and a few other girls off to take the trolly and explore the tiered streets of Omashu and play some carnival games.

It had been a freak accident. Seronok knew there was no way she should have won at that pachinko game -- everyone knew they were fixed -- but she had won, and won big.

The elders had banned personal radios. Such things were worldly possessions and thus unnecessary to a prospective nun's life. But Seronok had to have it. She loved music. So she had taken the radio back with her, listening to it in secret during the long train ride and steamer ship back to the Southern Air Temple. Seronok felt a little bad every time she listened to it -- breaking rules and all -- so she made sure to do extra meditation each week to make up for her transgressions.

Epal, of course, always wanted to borrow the radio, but Seronok had steadfastly refused. Epal didn't appreciate music, she just wanted to listen to the latest hit from Ba Sing Se so she'd be the Cool one. It was a reoccurring sore point between them, but Epal had the decency to feel bad about getting Seronok into trouble so often and Seronok never ratted on her. Cellmates stuck to together, after all.

But Epal was never one to give up easily, and after five months of back and forth between them it came to a head one afternoon during a game of Truth or Dare on the roof of the temple.

The game had been fine at first. Epal kissed Sudu on his lips as his girlfriend glared at them. Kapur admitted she had been the one to hide the lemur in Monk Dinding's bed. Then it came Seronok's turn.

Seronok, never one for dares, said, "Truth."

Epal asked, "Where do you hide your radio?"

And after that it was a Thing because now everyone suddenly knew Seronok had the most forbidden of items. Flustered, Seronok had demanded a dare instead.

"Fine," said Epal, "I dare you to..."

* * *

It was ten minutes past midnight when Seronok crept into the Shrine of Remembrance, transistor radio in hand.

The shrine, set apart from the Southern Air Temple, was an open-air structure; four grand pillars supporting a sweeping roof with glazed ceramic tiles colored orange and yellow. It faced towards the South Pole, the place where Seronok's people had been born. Her teachers said there was a matching shrine there, carved out of black stone and blue ice, set on the spot where the Mother and found the Father.

Upon passing through the arbor entrance, Seronok found her eye drawn to the paired statues at the shrine's center. There, seated in the lotus position on an elevated pedestal, were Father Aang and Mother Katara.

They were Seronok's many times great-grandparents, just as they were to every living airbender. Seronok was glad what she had come here to do would take place to their backs.

Each of the shrine's four great pillars was guarded by a sentinel. They were life-sized replicas of the Father's four bending masters: Pakku of the North, Zuko the Great, Grandfather Gyatso of the Ancient Nomads, and the founder of the Bei Fong Dynasty, the Metal Matriarch Toph.

It was on Toph that Seronok's nocturnal efforts centered.

Unlike her counterparts, the Matriarch's memorial statue was covered in ivy and moss that had crept in from the surrounding grounds. No one knew why the monks and nuns didn't clean the statue, only that it had always been treated that way.

"I dare you," her cellmate had said, "to sneak in and play a song for the Green Lady."

The 'Green Lady' was the statue's nickname, and bringing a _radio_ in a sacred place? A radio that Seronok wasn't even allowed to own and would be in major trouble if she was caught? Almost too daring. It beat divulging the hiding place for her radio. And the option 'Truth' could have been worse.

(But secretly making out with Sudu behind his girlfriend's back on the choir trip to Omashu had been _SO_ worth it.)

Most nights you could find a feed from Omashu. Tonight the stars shone bright and clear. Seronok bet she could score something from Ba Sing Se.

Kneeling before the Green Lady, Seronok fiddled with her radio's tuning. White noise crackled in the nighttime.

_/--kksssSSSSSHKssssSSss ~rotest outside the Imperial palace tur~ kksssSSSshhk ~save more mon~ kssssssh--/_

"Come on."

She lucked out with the scratchy sound of The Ladder Riders, an Earth Kingdom band. Her cellmate's magazines all said they were going to be big soon. She turned up the volume as loud as she dared and lost herself in the music. Bobbing her head along, Seronok glanced up at the Green Lady.

"_Sweet tunes_," the statue rumbled.

"AGGGGGHHHHHHH!!" Seronok scrambled backwards.

With an audible groan, the statue stood and stretched.

"Ooof," the shambling horror grumbled, a 'pop' filling the night like a stone being split in two by a hammer and chisel. "Ow. Ow ow _ow_." After another half minute of this, it finally regarded Seronok. "Hey there."

Seronok threw up.

The next thing she knew the monstrosity had moved to her side, holding her hair back while she dry heaved. "There, there," said the living statue, sounding gentle for a monster. "Let it all out."

"Ugghhhhh..."

"My daughter Irah was the same way," it said kindly, rubbing Seronok's back. "A gentle stomach is nothing to feel ashamed of."

Guts clenching in fear, Seronok looked up at the statue.

The Green Lady's skin was no longer stone, though it still held a grayish cast that was distinctly un-fleshlike. As before, instead of clothes, the Green Lady wore the vines and mosses that normally coated it. Seronok watched the rise and fall of its chest, but aside from that it was otherwise still. It didn't even blink. The elder monks and nuns fidgeted more when they were meditating.

Yet the statue's eyes were undeniably alive. Milky in color, yes, but clearly animated by a soul. That eased Seronok.

"Sorry for scaring you," it said. "Forgive an old woman her tricks." It glanced down at itself. "Huh. I seem to be naked."

_"Grk." _

The Green Lady stood, helping Seronok to her feet. It amazed Seronok that she came up only to the statue's mid-section. Matriarch Toph had, she learned, been a giant of a woman while alive, but seeing her -- well, her statue -- standing so tall was something else entirely.

"Easy does it. You're not going to get sick again, are you?"

Seronok numbly shook her head.

"Good. Now," it gestured to her feet, "how did you make that music box play so many different songs?"

"...The radio?"

"'Ray-dee-o'," repeated the statue, savoring the word. "Yes."

Seronok's knees gave out. The statue caught her. "Dear," it said, "try to keep it together."

"Y-YOU'RE A TALKING STATUE!" she blurted, finally freaking out.

"No," it said. "I'm Toph Bei Fong."

"Impossible! The Matriarch died centuries ago!"

The Green Lady helped her back towards its vacant pedestal. As they walked, it talked, "I traveled with Twinkletoes for years. Aang was always good for a brawl, but I wanted to beat him after he got glowy. Between him and hanging out with the White Lotus, I got to thinking more about bending and stuff. It was hard to spend time around Aang without picking up a thing or two about spirituality."

"You're saying... you..."

It -- _she_ -- helped Seronok to the ground. "Yes."

"You've been _mediating_ in your own memorial shrine for _centuries_?!"

The Matriarch settled back onto her pedestal. "My clothes didn't rot off by themselves, dear." A beat. "Well, technically they did."

"But how?!"

"I just listened to the Earth. The rest took care of itself."

The answer was sufficiently sage-like that Seronok knew she would have to figure the rest out on her own, which kind of pissed her off. Earthbenders stealing her people's shtick... grr. "Why meditate for so long?"

"Got bored," said Toph. The elderly, dignified statue-lady sighed. "All my friends were gone. My grandchildren were having grandchildren. When Aang died, it'd been a good half century since I'd met someone else who could give me a fair fight. Meditating seemed like a good way to pass the time until something more interesting came around -- your ray-dee-o, for instance. I mean, what else was I gonna do?" She snorted. "Die? _Pfff_. No thanks."

Seronok felt her eyes water. "That's so sad!"

"Huh?"

"All your friends were dead! You were all alone!"

"It's all right," she said. "You don't make it to... say, what year is it?" After Seronok answered, Toph exclaimed, "I'm 571?! Ugh. You don't make it to 571 without growing a thick skin." The Green Lady leaned forward and punched her on the arm. "Come on, kid, save the waterworks for an old lady who deserves it. I had an awesome life. Besides, all I have to do is look around this place at the other statues and I can see WHAT THE HELL?!"

"Wh-what? Did I do--"

"Those _bastards_. They took down Sokka and Suki's statues!" The Matriarch strode over to the entranceway's arbor, each step sending tremors through the ground. "What, are Twinkletoes and Sugar Queen's grandkids too good to have non-benders in their memorial?"

The ancient woman raised her hands and made a lightning-quick motion with her fingers. Two rock pillars rose out of the floor. Before Seronok's eyes, the crude juts of rock melted into human forms. One was a tall man in Water Tribe armor, the other was a woman in an ornate uniform and headdress. They were, presumably, the Mother's brother and sister-in-law. Their detail was extraordinary. Even in the milky moonlight, the young airbender could make out individual hairs on the man's beard. Both statues held out swords of different designs that crossed over the entryway as the couple saluted one another.

"Hmph." The Matriarch rested her hands on her hips. "You go to sleep for a couple of decades and everything goes to seed. Have to talk with the buttheads in charge around here before I go back to my snooze."

"I'm sorry," she said.

The elder waved her off. "Don't worry about it. Not your fault." She turned around. "Now," Toph said, hefting the radio, "how does this doohickey work?" She ran a finger up the antenna. "What's this?"

"There are, um, these waves in the air. Radio towers broadcast them and the antenna," she gestured to the gleaming telescoping rod, "picks them out." Seronok reached over and set the radio to play an electric string band from the Fire Nation.

"Crazy," said Toph. "Can you bend them?"

"What? The radio waves?"

"Yeah."

"Um, no."

"Why not?"

"You - you just can't."

"But they're in the air, right?"

"It's electromagnetism."

"Electric-wha?"

Seronok tried to think of a simple explanation. Toph was _really_ old, after all. "You, um, know lightning?"

"I am familiar with the concept, yes."

"Sorry!" She flushed. "But, yeah, it's like lightning. Sorta. Only you can't see it and it doesn't hurt anybody."

Toph nodded to herself. "So radiobending would be a Fire thing."

"You _can't_ bend radio waves."

"When I was your age, nobody could bend metal -- they still know how to metalbend, right?" When Seronok nodded, Toph grinned. "Sweet."

The Matriarch quickly figured out that thumbing the radio's dial changed the channel. After marveling at its capacity to communicate, she settled on listening to, of all things, static.

_/~kssssssshk~/_

"Ah," declared the Green Lady, "this is more my style."

"But it's not playing any music."

"Is it?" The ancient earthbender turned up the volume.

_/~KSSSSSSSHK~/_

"Pretty sure."

"Listen, little airbender, everything is dust if you break it down far enough. You. Me. This whole world. If you listen to the Earth, you can hear it, the story of the planet. Creation. Everything comes from star dust and everything will go back to it."

_/~KSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHK~/_

"This stuff you're calling noise? That's an echo of Earthsong. I've been listening to it for centuries. What do _you_ hear?"

"Static," Seronok said honestly. "I like my stuff better. It's catchier and has lyrics."

"Well," Matriarch Toph admitted, turning off the radio, "it's something of an acquired taste, I guess."


	4. Ask Her to Show Off Her New Clothes

**Ask Her to Show Off Her New Clothes (No, They're Not Invisible)**

Zuko and Iroh walked down to the end of the pier towards the tiny ironclad, their travel bags slung across their shoulders. Sharply uniformed soldiers lined up to greet them, their crimson armor gleaming in the morning sunlight.

Standing at the top of the gangplank, Azula spread her arms wide and bowed. "Brother! Uncle! Welcome. I'm _so_ glad you decided to come."

An officer at Azula's side asked, "Are we ready to depart, Your Highness?"

The princess smiled pleasantly. "Set our course for home, Captain."

"Home," Zuko echoed wistfully. A few moments later his contented expression cloud over with thoughtfulness. "Hey, Azula?"

"Yes, brother?" She patted the railing of the ship. "Aren't you going to come aboard?"

He turned and pointed to the side of the harbor. There, slumped sideways against high rock walls, half-sunk in the crystal blue bay waters, was a grand, gold-trimmed vessel. "I was just wondering, what happened to the Royal Procession's ship?"

"Yes," said Iroh, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "We could not help but speculate as we walked down the hillside. Were you attacked by waterbenders, who used their power to smash our family's grand ship into the rocky shore?"

"Or earthbenders?" asked Zuko. "An elite squad of assassins, operating deep behind enemy lines, who worked together to raise the bay floor up and impale the ship?"

"No," grunted Azula. "We weren't attacked. We ran aground because... the captain decided to bring ship into port before nightfall."

Zuko's jaw dropped. "What? Seriously? What a moron! Don't they teach about the tide at the Imperial Naval Academy?"

"Yes," agreed Iroh. "Only a fool would argue with the tides. I hope you punished that one who gave that order severely. An officer who would act with such negligence should be made an example of to the rest of the Fire Nation."

Azula smirked. "Don't worry. He's not talking."

"Because he retained some small shred of honor and went down with the ship?" asked Zuko.

"Yes. Yes, that's it exactly, Zuzu." She happily slapped the nearest railing. "Thankfully the navy was perfectly willing to loan us this old clunker so we could steam home on time."

The ex-general sadly shook his head at the sheer loss of life involved. "I can't believe someone so incompetent could be trusted with such a vital assignment."

"Neither can I," said Azula. "Now if you'd please come aboard...?"

Zuko smiled sadly at his uncle. "If only our nation's enemies were so stupid, we'd have conquered the world decades ago."

"Indeed, nephew."

"Look!" snapped Azula, smoking pouring out of her ears. "Are you going to keep gabbing about that stupid ship or are you going to get on this damn prisoner transport already?!"

* * *

Azula rung out the seawater from her hair as she walked back aboard the ironclad. "Captain?"

"Yes, princess?"

"I am... irked... at how your slip of the tongue exposed my cunning trap to those traitors."

"What on Earth are you talking about, Your Highness?"

"Are you questioning my word?"

"N--"

**ZAP!**

Azula glanced around the deck, looking each of the sailors in the eye as they beheld their captain's crispy-fried body. "And _that's_ how we deal with mutiny on my ship."


	5. The Face Death Forgot

**The Face Death Forgot**

.

She is born the sixth child of farmers so poor they cannot afford to have her feet bound, lest they lose a valuable field hand. By the time she is a woman grown, her feet are grotesquely huge. Nature is also unkind, denying her the markers of a proper Earth Kingdom beauty. At age eight she's as tall as her mother Koko. At twelve, she meets the eyes of her taller-than-average father. The summer of her thirteenth year she unexpectedly shoots up another foot, dwarfing everyone she's ever met. She keeps growing. Her mother, with more the intention of good humor than the result, comforts her with the observation that she'll never have to worry about drowning because her head will always be above water.

She excels at fighting. This is the age of outlaws, when people look to a tyrant named Chin for salvation from an oppressive yet inept government, only to find Chin is a _competent_ draconian ruler. Every able hand must defend the village from evil men. Because the Earth King has outlawed non-nobles from owning weapons or learning combat earthbending forms, her education is in the peasant laborer's plain sight arsenal: the truncheon, hoe, sickle, fishing oar, and folding fan. By age fourteen she learns all these tools to deadly effect, killing a dozen bandits in single raid after the adults flee. After that, people from across the province come to her for secret training, and their payments in food help pull her large family through a bad drought. The insults of 'freakish giant' and 'manlike' die away. Nobody but her family calls her by her given name anymore, she is known in hushed renown as the 'teaching master' - _Kyoshi._

At sixteen, on the Summer Solstice, she awakens from a dream knowing the truth about herself. While elsewhere venerable sages debate the missing Avatar and eye the growing stain of Chin's Empire on their maps, a moneyless hick from a village too remote to warrant a census taker packs her meager possessions, tucks a much-loved metal fan (a student's gift) into her belt, and heads to Omashu.

She is met with denials, derision, questioning and, finally, begrudging acceptance. An ugly, underclass saviour is still a saviour. Still the old insults return, flowing from her classmates' lips as surely as the spring snowmelt will from the mountaintops. Kyoshi - she doesn't use her real name, to protect her family from Chin's spies - knows she is strong enough to ignore them now.

Earthbending for war is not much different from earthbending as a farming tool: there is determination, vigilance, patience and, when the time is right, the harvest.

The years pass. She trains. Chin's domain grows.

Airbending is the hardest for her. They build a special glider for her large frame, and then build it again and again after she crashes them. Hitting the ground never hurts. How could it? She is the daughter of the Earth, a mountain shaped like a woman.

The greatest lesson from the Air Nomads is on the nature of history. They are the longest-lived of the Four Nations, old when even the fabled Sun Warriors were young. Above an ocean of humanity, their temples stand vigil: praying, meditating, recording.

"There will be another Chin," her teachers say, as she frets over the latest reports from the Siege of Ba Sing Se. "And another. And another. And just as surely as Kuruk lived and died, so will you beget the next Avatar. History flows like a river, sweeping us all along, repeating it course. Take comfort in this truth."

Her teachers will be dust before she questions them.

* * *

When Chin's army arrives at her home peninsula, she goes alone and unannounced to meet him. Her face is painted white, just as she painted it as a child during those illegal weapon classes that now seem so long ago. Leaving aside her height, it does nothing to hide her identity. Nor does she intend it to. The face Kyoshi shows to her enemy is the face of the people Chin claims to be championing: the downtrodden peasant, forced to criminality to defend themselves.

Her first public act as Avatar is to protect her village a final time, separating it from the mainland.

Chin falls. His army splinters, as does his empire.

The Earth King and his loyal nobles, cowering behind Ba Sing Se's walls, demand justice. Chin stole their lands; it is only fair that the Avatar restore them. That is balance, they say.

Kyoshi disagrees. While Chin's surviving lieutenants are put to the sword for their rebellion, his provincial governors are not. Because while Chin was a tyrant, so too was the Earth King. What justice is there in trading one gang for another? Especially when Chin's chosen brought law and order to their provinces while the Earth King's chosen selfishly did not.

It takes hard years to put down the civil wars, the peasant uprisings, the nobility's proxy fights. But banditry declines. Deaths are more often non-violent than not, and taxes are paid.

The Earth Kingdom returns to balance.

* * *

Time passes.

Kyoshi's people name their new island in her honor. When her duties do not take her elsewhere, she guards it. Being the home of the Avatar brings it both renown and danger, especially from the bitter settlers across the straight where Chin's most loyal followers established their own village. The threat of an Avatar's fury keeps them from enacting mass revenge, and her people are proficient enough to fend off the smaller-scale attacks when she is seeing to her worldly duties.

Among the Earth Kingdom's new nobility, it becomes fashionable for their daughters to go with unbound feet. While Kyoshi appreciates the tribute, she likes more seeing female earthbenders like herself go unmaimed, able to develop their talents. It is a fad, she tells herself, but enjoys that her monstrous feet are a little less unusual a sight.

* * *

On the occasion of her fiftieth birthday, the Fire Lord honors her with an polished dragonscale hand mirror. For novelty's sake, she tries applying her ubiquitous war paint in front of it. Kyoshi is shocked to find the barefaced woman staring back at her looks closer to twenty-five than fifty. Her crow's feet are small and her gray hairs sparse.

Remarkably well preserved, her wrinkled childhood friends tell her later.

* * *

She makes it to sixty-three before she can't deny there's a problem.

Her parents are long dead. Her siblings are silver-haired and walk with stoops. Yet the reflection in her hand mirror hasn't aged a day. The Earth Sages tell her that the chi within her is _strong_ but not to worry. "Time is like a river," they say, "and it carries us to our final destination in due course. Be patient."

She tries. She really does.

* * *

For her one hundredth and nineteenth birthday, Kyoshi buries a much-loved grand-nephew of fifty and then leaves her village. Too many memories echoed in the faces of people's grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

On the mainland, Chin's chosen have taken up the airs of the old houses. Kyoshi is struck by the realization that few other than her remember the less-than-noble origins of the Pangs and Bei Fongs and dozens of other families. Only a few Ba Sing Se diehards still bind their daughters' feet. A fad has become fashion, and fashion custom.

She fights. She trains others. She moves on and puts her students' faces out of her mind.

It passes the time.

The mirror she leaves buried on the island.

* * *

Sometime in her late 160s, a Water Tribe girl interrupts Kyoshi during a waterbending lesson when she mentions Kuruk.

"Who's he?"

"The Avatar before me."

"_Before_ you?"

* * *

At 203, for a change of pace, Kyoshi returns home and sets aside a few decades to marry. The man is a simple fisherman. He is kind and his face doesn't resemble anyone she remembers. Surprisingly, despite looking to be in her late forties, she produces a daughter, Koko.

Watching her child grow is a joy, but ever-present is the knowledge that she will soon bury Koko too.

Everyone is swept along by the river of time. Everyone except Kyoshi.

Not for the first time, she wishes she were a head shorter.

* * *

Koko, like her grandmother, grows to be a diminutive woman. "I wish I was as big as you, Mama."

"No, you don't."

* * *

And suddenly one morning, at 230, it _hurts_ getting out of bed.

The islanders are appalled by how fast she deteriorates. Kyoshi the Immortal, some have called her. But newly whitened hair and arthritic hands that can't even unfurl a war fan put an end to the title. Never a vain woman, she still asks Koko to dig up that ancient mirror. The image it shows her - deep set wrinkles, drooping skin, hair thinning by the day - astounds her.

Kyoshi never imagined that a drowning woman could look so beautiful.


	6. The Other Runaway Avatar

**The Other Runaway Avatar**

**

* * *

**

Roku fitted himself into the cramped tree hollow and closed his eyes. Vermin slithered over his skin, dank spirits that hated even the waxy overcast that passed for daylight in the Spirit World, but such things no longer revolted him. He had hidden in worse places these past decades.

A few minutes later he heard the first footsteps: careful, questing, but heavy.

_Kuruk_, he realized with a shiver.

The Water Tribe man was the consummate hunter, relentlessly tracking Roku across fields and mountains after other Avatars gave up, happy to wait for more convenient opportunities. Kuruk never punished Roku personally, not after the first time, instead preferring to give him over to the ancient Avatars that had not had their turn with the sticks and the rope.

When Roku had died, his predecessor Kyoshi had greeted him cooly, "The Avatar has maintained the Balance for a thousand generations, until you. If Sozin's plan succeeds, all of our duty and sacrifice will have been for nothing. Those who came before you will ensure you pay for your dereliction."

Both worlds affected one another, and the day of the Great Comet's return brought an all-consuming firestorm to the Spirit World. Ageless lesser spirits had been burnt away as reality itself trembled, warping the landscape Roku had known for the first twelve years of his afterlife into a twisted ruin that had yet to fully recover its vitality. Only a terrible catastrophe, like the destruction of one of the Four Nations, could have caused such havok.

Before the final ashes had rained from the sky, Kyoshi led the other Avatars to him. They fell upon him in a rage. Roku had not resisted. How could he, when his failure was so great? But he could only endure unceasing torments for so long, and the time came when he fled his punishers.

After the caught him that first time, they started releasing him after they'd had their fill. He wondered if they thought each chase gave them false hopes of his to crush.

They weren't wrong.

Roku had been running for a long time.

Only one thing stopped him from surrendering forever. Somewhere in the Material World, his successor slept in an iceberg, waiting for chance or accident to revive him. It was a miracle that at least one airbender survived. There was a chance the Balance could be restored, and if so Roku would be Aang's mentor. Until that day arrived, Roku knew his predecessors would make him pay for his failure to check his friend's monstrous ambitions.

He hoped there would be peace for himself and his conscience one day. That he would see Ta Min again. Most of all he hoped that, when he and Aang met, there would be one Avatar who didn't hate him. It was almost unthinkable to expect compassion from a boy he had helped make the last airbender... but it was all he had left.

A shadow fell over Roku's hiding place.

"Found you."


	7. Second Best Revenge

**Second Best Revenge**

.

On the eastern boundary of the Si Wong Desert, where the outermost stretched tendrils of civilization wither on sun-baked dry grasslands, there is an ordinary ranch. After dusk, lantern light can be seen from one bedroom. Inside, a young woman with prematurely graying hair sits at the bedside of a little girl.

"Once upon a time," says the mother, "in a faraway kingdom, there was a foolish Prince and a clever Princess. The Prince was a cowardly boy who cared only for himself, while his younger sister thought only of her people. For you see, their kingdom had been at war for generations. The Prince wasn't willing to fight for his people, so the wise King striped him of his crown and exiled him.

"With her brother gone, the Princess worked hard to become the perfect Queen her people needed. With her loyal and steadfast friends at her side, the Princess managed to single-handedly end the war and bring peace to the land. She had her happy ending.

"Alas, it was not to last.

"The foolish Prince, jealous of his sister, found a dark Wizard who used his evil magic to slay the King and brainwash the Princess's friends. They imprisoned the Princess in a fortress of ice, and stole the warmth from her blood so that she was no more than ice herself."

The little girl gasps.

"In exchange for stealing the Prince his father's crown, the Wizard was made the King of Kings. Everyone in the whole world had to bow to the Wizard _or die_.

"But not everyone would bow. Some stood against the Wizard and his toy Puppet King. They rescued the Princess and begged her to save them. The clever Princess, mindful of the lump of ice in her chest where her heart once did beat, told her countrymen that no army, however strong and brave, could stand against the cruel Wizard's power. If they wanted to win, they would need to wait."

"Why, Mama?"

"Because the people of the world wouldn't be fooled by the Wizard and his Puppet King forever. No magic spell was powerful enough to heal the scars on their bodies, or fill the empty chairs at their dinner tables. Everyone had fought for too long to just stop and forgive each other simply because the Wizard said they should.

"The people struck out in ones and twos at their false rulers for saying their heartbreak was meaningless. While the Wizard and his toy Puppet King had to be lucky every time, the heroes only needed to be lucky once. Soon neither tyrant could sleep for fear of the people who might be lurking in the night. The Princess, still free, still patiently waiting, lived happily ever after to sleep as she pleased.

"The moral of this story is that while success is the best revenge, peace of mind comes a close second." Brushing her daughter's bangs aside, the mother gently kisses her forehead. "Goodnight, my little princess."


	8. The Fanfiction of Wan Shi Tong

**The Fanfiction of Wan Shi Tong**

**

* * *

**

.

"You have done well today, little Knowledge Seeker." Wan Shi Tong stroked a talon along the bundle of papers. Rough drafts of manuscripts were so rarely found by his helpers. Humans were quick to dispose of anything that might make their published works seem anything less than inspired. Which only served to show, the owl thought, the inherent foolishness of their nature.

Wan Shi Tong would shortly add it to the rest of the Pu-on Tim Collection, but for now he simply wanted to hold his latest acquisition and stare at its brushstrokes. What had been going through the author's mind as he had laid down each character? Why had his brush lingered _here,_ or crossed out a word _there_ and picked _that_ word instead?

Wan Shi Tong did not know. Fiction was a baffling concept.

The play was unfinished, an ending to its first act sketched out in mere rough detail: the Moon bleeding, a conquest fleet smashed by a wrathful Avatar, but no dialogue yet. The owl hoped that Pu-on Tim would not leave this work unfinished as he had his satirical _Blossoms of the Middle Ring,_ but then the playwright had been forcibly parted from that work. It was only the quick action of his foxy Knowledge Seekers that had saved the last surviving copy from a Lake Laogai furnace.

It occurred to Wan Shi Tong that as the play involved the current Avatar, perhaps it would do well to include a copy in the Air Nomad _(Air Nation)_wing. He hadn't had the occasion to add anything to that collection in over forty years, and when Avatar Aang inevitably died it would finally be time to seal the Air Nomad _(Air Nation)_ wing forever. If the seasonal renewal of the Four Nations had taught him anything, it was to take advantage of the opportunity cataclysm presented for categorization purposes. Fire Lord Sozin's genocide of the Air Nomads _(Air Nation)_ had been the cleanest break between eras since the cometary bombardment that had initiated the last ice age.

Wan Shi Tong disliked it when human nations lingered past their self-apparent demise. He was _still_ having to occasionally update the Sun Warriors' index sixteen hundred years after their southern colonies, ravaged by the Sleeping Death, had risen up in rebellion and religious revolution.

"My, my. Another precious work, brother?"

The owl broke out of his reverie with a frown. From a patch of darkness the fell between book shelves, a sinuous body slunk into existence. The accomplished little Knowledge Seeker at Wan Shi Tong's feet, in whom he was most pleased, turned and fled at the first glimpse of Koh the Face Stealer.

"You," the owl said, "are not my brother. You are also not welcomed in this place, as I made very clear the last time."

It had been a mistake to allow Koh in that day, but the dark ages that followed nuclear winter always made the Knowledge Spirit supremely bored. That foul ennui had made him lock away the physics material in his library, if only so foolish humans wouldn't stumble into such disasters again so quickly.

Wan Shi Tong had been so young and hopeful, then.

"I'd hoped you'd gotten over that little accident after thirty thousand years," said the Face Stealer.

"Nineteen thousand six hundred and forty-one years."

Koh scoffed, "If you want to be _linear_ about it."

"However you care to measure it, time alone will never replace the tablets you maliciously destroyed."

"Well, it's been long enough for me to have gotten past your overreaction." Koh slithered onto the walkway Wan Shi Tong occupied, then curled his long body loosely around the owl. They did not touch because, for all Koh's arrogance, the Face Stealer's flesh could still be savaged under Wan Shi Tong's talons. Koh enjoyed playing his word games far more than he savored pain. "You see, the Avatar recently came to me for a chat, and it got me feeling nostalgic."

"You've said your hello." Wan Shi Tong protectively tucked the rough draft under one feathered wing. "Now leave."

"But I have news! Tui is dead, and now _she_ has a new name and face." Koh grinned with the pale face of a long-dead Avatar Noh. "I'll tell you about her, if you answer a question of mine."

"The Moon Spirit's new name is Yue." Thinking of the unfinished first act of Pu-on Tim's new play, Wan Shi Tong supposed that the author would have to incorporate that fact if he wanted his work to be fully accurate to reality.

Koh slipped on a dusky woman's face to pout. Water Tribe, judging by the bone structure. "_Ttch_. Someone wrote that down already? And here I thought I had a gift for a fellow knowledge spirit."

"You know **nothing**, Koh. You are a parasite. I remember a time when you were a squirming grub to be crushed underfoot. Would that I had!"

"Mmmm... I remember those days. When lion-turtles were plentiful and walked freely among Man, and our kind lied to ourselves that the stars in the heavens were new." Koh smirked. "Although I'll show my brother spirit respect by not laughing at _him_ calling _me_ a parasite."

Wan Shi Tong ruffled his feathers. Unveiling one wicked talon in the dim lamplight, he said, "Leave. Or I will remove you from my library."

Casually, Koh replied, "Perhaps I should remove your face."

"You threat is as empty as your head." This library was _his_ domain, the seat of Wan Shi Tong's self and of his essence. He could not be defeated here, and would not stand for being insulted.

"You're right. Why would I want _your_ face? So boring. So... factual." The Face Stealer raised his segmented body high, insectile legs spread wide in grandiose fashion. "All these stolen works, culled from every mortal aeon, gathered to satisfy your own clutterbug impulse."

"Knowledge for knowledge's sake is a virtue."

Koh hunched over and came nose-to-nose with the owl spirit. From the stolen lips of a woman, he said, "You know nothing, brother, that the humans haven't written down for you. If every scroll in this library were burnt, every tablet smashed, every punchcard ripped up, you would be reduced to less than the grub I once was.

"I steal from them too, but at least I try to _understand_ humanity." Koh shifted through half a dozen faces in rapid succession. "All you need to do is try to see things from their perspective. Try to _imagine_ what - oh, wait." The Face Stealer chuckled. "You can't."

Bored, Wan Shi Tong cocked his head to the side. "If you're quite finished, I have some indexing to handle."

Koh clattered aside, allowing the Knowledge Spirit passage on the walkway. Wan Shi Tong was nearing the end of the bridge when the parasite's voice chased after him. "I was there. When Tui died."

The owl paused. He stood still for a long while, his back to the Face Stealer, debating if he should rise to the bait.

Many humans had written of the Red Moon, but none had yet detailed the exact sequence of events surrounding the death of the Moon Spirit's previous incarnation. It was an important historical event, and Wan Shi Tong did not use that term lightly. So far the Knowledge Spirit knew of only two attempts to record that moment in time; both failures.

The first, several unfinished letters written by Chieftain Arnook, had passed into and out of Wan Shi Tong's mind before he'd had a chance to transcribe them. Why Arnook destroyed his own letters, Wan Shi Tong cared not. Arnook could have burned a thousand letters if only he'd given Wan Shi Tong time to record their contents. Destroying the originals without a finished copy in the library robbed Wan Shi Tong of the knowledge they had contained. Only the memory of remembering their loss remained.

The only other record was a tear-stained apology note of such poor penmanship that Wan Shi Tong could barely decipher it in his mind's eye, save that it had obviously been written by a lovesick human. That apology contained gushing sorrow, but nothing of factual note.

Turning to face Koh, the owl growled, "Elaborate."

Koh changed faces.

For the first time in eons, Wan Shi Tong found himself shocked. The stolen face staring back at him was a familiar one. It was the Criminal, the human who had burned Wan Shi Tong's precious texts on the contemporary Fire Nation.

"Do you like it?" Koh asked, his voice spilling from Zhao's lips. "La granted me this one as a gift, for helping the Avatar learn what he needed in order to preserve La's cult city of bodyguards."

Wan Shi Tong, claws trembling with anger, glared at the Face Stealer. "You said _you_ were present for Tui's death. I have no need of stolen knowledge gleamed from the human spirits you consume."

"But I _was_ there," Koh insisted with the Criminal's face. "You don't appreciate what it's like, brother, to see the world with human eyes. How strange and wonderful it is. Take this one. An ambitious military man. Hungry for glory. Ruthless. Smug. Sadistic."

A snort. "Typical human, then."

"And yet..."

Wan Shi Tong waited, patience thinning.

Koh's stolen flesh frowned thoughtfully. "There was a moment in this human's life, right at the end, that I don't understand."

There was something unnerving in Koh's tone. It took Wan Shi Tong a moment to realize that the Face Stealer sounded...

...reverent.

"He was standing across from this princeling, no further than you or I stand here, when La scooped him up. The prince cried out for this man, his enemy - the man who had tried to _murder_ him - to take his hand." Koh extended a single segmented foot towards Wan Shi Tong. "For a moment, Zhao reached out for his enemy's offering." Koh retracted his claw. "And then he took his hand back."

"Why? Was it spite? Or was he trying to save the prince's life?" Humans were contradictory creatures. Both their history and their literature attested to that much. They were maddeningly hard to anticipate because so much of them went unwritten. As a rule, it was smarter to assume humans were destructive until proven otherwise.

"I don't know," Koh admitted. "Both. Neither."

"His face is yours. You must know." It was Koh's domain as a spirit of empathy, as written knowledge was Wan Shi Tong's.

"I see through his eyes with mine, but they are still _his_ eyes." Koh draped his long body over the bridge railing, gazing down into the receding depths of Wan Shi Tong's library, where the remnants of bygone ages were safeguarded. "He hated the prince. He wanted to kill the prince. He had unending pride. He knew there was no future for him in escape. He hated himself for failing. He hated the boy's uncle for being right about the Moon Spirit. He revered the prince's father. He had been instilled with love for the royal family all his life. He wanted to live. He wanted to die." Koh glanced aside at the owl. "A good face. I haven't understood so many truths in a long, long time."

"Truths? You talk nonsense and call it knowledge."

"Knowledge is a limited concept, like you, brother. After all, my mind is my own. It is not swayed by propagandists and the badly scrawled essays of schoolchildren."

"Koh-"

"Read any good books about the Air Nation lately?"

_(Air Nomads)_ sang the contradictory echo in Wan Shi Tong's mind. The owl squashed it. Yes, it was a fact, but it was also an untruth. He had to remember that. He _had_ to remember that. "Stop."

"I know humanity better than you," said Koh, "and, unlike you, I understand them."

"Yes," said He Who Knows 10,000 Things, "just like a rapist understands love."

"_Understanding_ isn't something that can be written down," Koh said, steamrolling past the counter-argument. "It can only be found in empathy... by seeing things from another's point of view. Why, take that manuscript you're fearfully cradling against your feathered breast! Would that playwright's audience care if he merely reported what he learned from others about the Avatar's pilgrimage?" Zhao's face sneered. "It would be boring! A waste of time! Only by culling unnecessary details and smoothing the rough edges can a compelling narrative be created. Base facts are forged into something greater than its parts, and each human who sees that play will come away with their own unique understanding of the events it depicts."

When the Face Stealer put it that way, Wan Shi Tong felt a little dirty for holding the rough draft. Still, he would not have his library collection put down. Put a certain way, yes, he and the Koh collected facets of humanity, but Wan Shi Tong shared his knowledge freely with the wise. Koh was a selfish thief, interested only in his own grandiose satisfaction.

"Mortals may be impressed by your warmed over insights," said Wan Shi Tong, "but I am already familiar with the concept of the death of the author." It had been invented several times by literary critics of civilizations past. He had copies of each iteration of the theory, in their original languages. "So let me enlighten you with my own understanding. You've let yourself be stolen by the face you wear. That's why you came back here, isn't it, _brother_? Because the new human inside you compelled you to return to where he learned La and Tui's true identities, the very start of his grand failure!"

Quick as lightning, Koh threw himself at Wan Shi Tong. The Knowledge Spirit, claws already extended, batted the attack aside with a slash across Zhao's face. Red blood - human blood - sprayed across the owl's feathers. Koh shrieked. The lid over his face reflexively snapped shut, but the damage was done. A piece of his newest prize had been torn away from his mind; a scattering of thieved memories and emotions of the Criminal Zhao were no more.

Koh was less, now.

Scuttling away back into the protective shade of the bookshelves, the Face Stealer called out from the shadows, "My imaginations are stolen, but at least I have them. You do not even have _one_, and for that I pity you!"

Wan Shi Tong waited.

The shadows were silent.

A Knowledge Seeker crept up fearfully to the owl. Wan Shi Tong looked on his assistant with pity. Koh's last rampage did not go unremembered despite it being ages past. Next time, Wan Shi Tong resolved to throw the Face Stealer out of his library at soon as the parasite slunk into sight.

Sighing, he handed the fox Pu-On Tim's unfinished rough draft of _The Boy in the Iceberg_. "See this is put where it belongs."

* * *

That spring saw a momentous change to the library. After an encounter with scheming, warlike humans - descriptors that were redundant - the great Knowledge Spirit had at last extricated his literary collection from the human's plane and returned to his ancient home.

The aether of the Spirit World was a great relief to Wan Shi Tong. No longer would he be subjected to doublethink by the lies and contradictions the humans wrote down. The works collected in his library was his self, wholly and without any nattering interference. The Air Nomads were the Air Nomads, and any other name for them could be clinically noted as imperialist propaganda under the Revisionist History section.

More relieved than he had expected to be, Wan Shi Tong set his assistants to work on a long-delayed project: sorting and re-filing everything in his library. Everything needed to be checked over after several millennia of books being put back in the wrong place by patrons.

Each day his foxy helpers continued to clear up misfilings, Wan Shi Tong felt his own memory becoming clearer. Certain facts which he'd previously had to ruminate on for several minutes now came to him in a snap.

Yet as the shelves were sorted, the silence in Wan Shi Tong's mind became sharper as well. In the Spirit World, he was disconnected from the flow of contemporary written knowledge among the humans. It wasn't that he missed the boring minutiae of the modern era - the dryly noted horrors in war reports, the tedious reuse of wartime tropes in poems and literature, the endless bureaucratic paperwork that characterized the latest incarnation of the earthbenders' nation - but the lack of white noise felt... uncomfortable.

Worse, now that his heated anger at the Avatar and his human allies had cooled, Wan Shi Tong realized that there would be no new additions to his library. His foxy Knowledge Seekers could not cross back and forth between the Spirit World and Material World, and if Wan Shi Tong were to go his sense of self would be reduced to only what written works presently existed on Earth. There would be no past beyond the humans' hazy recollection of the single previous iteration of the cycle of civilization; no independent perspective for Wan Shi Tong. Storybook truths like Oma and Shu being the first earthbenders would become hard fact. He might even forget himself. He might never find his way back to the Spirit World before the arrival of Sozin's Comet and the inevitable burning of books that would ensue in the firestorm.

To be trapped on Earth during a dark age... he might as well be one of those faceless shells left in Koh's wake.

Walking along the bridge-ways and bookcases of his grand library, Wan Shi Tong saw only bitterness in his future. If he stayed in the Spirit World, he would be a static creature, never changing, never growing. But if he returned to the Material World, the humans would inevitably find some way to misuse the knowledge he had collected. Wan Shi Tong wouldn't be able to keep the humans out. If a parasite like Koh could sneak in, beings with true imaginations would be impossible to guard against.

Wan Shi Tong did not know what to do.

* * *

Standing before the shelf storing the Pu-On Tim Collection, Wan Shi Tong contemplated the unfinished play concerning Avatar Aang. Residing in the Spirit World, he would never have a copy of the finished work - _if_ it was finished.

Yet... maybe he didn't need to go looking for the whole rest of the play. If Pu-On Tim was writing about Avatar Aang's journey, he would have to include a depiction of the wanton acts committed in the library. Wan Shi Tong could himself write that scene. He had _lived_ it, after all. He could even prove Koh, unimportant irritation he was, wrong. There was no need to write down a literal transcript of that day when he could make the point more succinctly.

He could even do it in the style of Pu-On Tim himself. His library contained not only Pu-On Tim's collected works as a reference, but the critical reviews and analysis of his career. Imitating his style, his voice, in the recitation of true events would be the simple task of applying what Wan Shi Tong already knew about the playwright. Surely he could depict that irritating Water Tribe boy's words, convey his smug knowingness, his arrogance. All he needed to do was write as Pu-On Tim would. Yes.

Standing at his drafting board, Wan Shi Tong eagerly laid out fresh parchment, ink, and a brush.

Wan Shi Tong stared down at the blank sheet.

Blackest ink dripped from his hovering brush and splattered down onto the waiting page.

He watched it dry.**  
**


	9. TLA 2: First Rumblings

**A/N:** I usually don't preface fics, but this one needs it. This drabble is set in a AU!movieverse outline I'm writing, called _TLA-2_, that's an attempt to reduce all of Season 2 into a coherent two hour movie. It's more a thought experiment than an actual fanfic, but that's why the Bei Fongs live in, well... you'll see. So, heads up, this story is a major AU.

* * *

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**First Rumblings**

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* * *

The clothes were a hurdle, because Lao didn't known anything about how the peasants of the Lower Ring dressed. Here his good friend Yuan Run Pang came to his rescue. The Agricultural Minister possessed a predilection for the lowest sort of social clubs and the young boys that frequented them. Lao considered Yuan's nighttime habits too easily exploitable by the ambitious new Grand Secretariat, but here they were Lao's salvation.

The trick, apparently, wasn't to dress like Lower Ring trash but like Middle Ring garbage. Lao's good posture and cleanliness would be taken as a sign of the pitiful airs that Ba Sing Se's middle class put on in an attempt to imitate their betters. His only consolation wearing tacky clothes with such low thread count was that he would be the best 'imitation' of Upper Ring nobility that the underclass had ever seen.

When the monorail stopped at Zai Station, he almost exited the car on reflex. Lao had rarely ridden out past the Middle Ring, and when he did he took an express train through to the Agricultural Zone.

The car grew more crowded the longer he rode, and the passengers' clothes grew sweaty and their faces smudged with soot and grease. In the Inner Ring, Lao had to deal with waves of people crushing against him as they filed the car to capacity. It was hot. It stunk. Lao was honestly relieved when it came time to disembark the monorail and walk the foreign, garbage-strewn streets of the Inner Ring. The air was smokey and smelled of rot, urine, and sewage, but at least it was cool and he could move freely.

Walking the streets shoulder-to-shoulder with the underclass, Lao was reminded of the threat posed to the city's future by its newly appointed Grand Secretariat. Here and there, painted in gigantic characters across the sides of buildings, were the words that had catapulted the Dai Li's leader to the Grand Secretariat's office:

THERE IS NO WAR IN BA SING SE

It was breathtaking. Sublime, even. Nothing in life was so precious as purity and Long Feng had dreamt up the purist lie, the ideal lie.

With refugees packing the Lower Rings like vermin in an animal carcass, social unrest had arisen. The diversity of the Earth Kingdom was to be appreciated, yes, but preferably when people from all corners of the continent weren't forced to live in close quarters. Different customs - cuisine, clothing, accents - had been a match set to the tinderbox of unhappy peasants already angry about losing their old homes to the Fire Nation.

Lao had been skeptical that the Dai Li's patently false propaganda could quell the growing incidence of riots, but it had worked. Lao pondered why for a long time before he finally concluded that lower classes weren't smart enough to keep more than one thought in their head at a time. If a man in a uniform said there was no war, then there was no war.

Lao hadn't considered such total control over the Lower Ring possible, not without stationing soldiers on every street-corner. Yet the ranks of the Dai Li had not expanded. Lao knew this because his allies in the Finance Ministry oversaw the Dai Li's budget, both the official one and the unofficial one that didn't exist. To accomplish so much with so little... Long Feng was skilled, low birth or not.

Yet even the most sterling lie wasn't enough with the infamous Dragon of the West now camping on the Outer Wall's doorstep. So the Grand Secretariat was trying a different approach to pacify the huddled masses and get them to think about something other than the war.

Lao wanted to know if it was working. Thus this field trip.

He found his destination easily. The new four hundred foot tall statue of King Kuei was hard to miss, and the equally new stadium beside it was no less noticeable. The building's lines reminded Lao of his opponent's great lie: clean, pure, and distinct. There was no sense of Ba Sing Se's long history in this monument dedicated to base appetites. It had been thrown up in a hurry once word of General Iroh's impending campaign had reached the government's ears.

Earth Rumble Stadium.

For several minutes, Lao endured being jostled in a ticket queue before finally entering the arena. It was dizzying. There were people _everywhere_, more people than Lao had ever seen in any one place before. Merchants hawked food, drinks, candy, clothes, and... giant fingers? Taken all together, it was like a city shorn of homes and stuffed into a single building.

Lao took his seat midway up one of the many rungs on the stone seating terrace. Looking around at the eager faces of the peasantry - wait, people actually brought _children_ here? - Lao was reminded that the arena's terraced seating was similar to what was used in rice farming. Which made sense, even if Long Feng was farming compliance and not rice.

It started.

Lao was not impressed.

The Earth Rumble amounted to two bad actors slinging insults at one another across a bare stone stage, then trading the insults for big rocks. One man won. The other was beaten senseless. Then a new, fresh contestant was unleashed on the winner. This was repeated, again and again.

The crowd ate it up.

Lao had to admit that Long Feng knew his sort of people well. The Earth Rumble was exactly the sort of nonsense that only a low-born man like Long Feng would think of organizing. While barbaric, it showed how he pandered to the masses like a virtuoso.

The large-than-life arena imposed a sense of command. The statue of King Kuei gave attendants a sense of official approval to the whole dingy affair. The virile displays of earthbending reinforced the idea of the Earth Kingdom being strong enough to defeat its enemy. It all played on the sensibilities of the underclass. But such insights into their minds were only to be expected from Long Feng. He was Middle Ring garbage, and they devoted so much of their mental efforts into imitating the nobility and forgetting their own backgrounds that they developed a curious self-awareness. It made them a strange sort. Outwardly strong but, past that thin shell, brittle.

Yet sitting in the stands, letting the energy of the crowd wash over him, their alternating waves of elation and outrage, Lao began to feel many conflicting sensations. Overwhelmed. Excited. Exhausted. Sick. Young. Stringing all those emotions together was an unexpected cord of brotherhood, a connection with these thousands of strangers created by collectively experiencing the drama unfolding onstage. And _that_ made Lao feel...

Afraid.

The Earth Rumble _worked._

How could the peasants be fooled so easily? It was obvious that the government had funded this stadium, allowed these games, but the people still came?

Yet Lao had felt himself be drawn into the communal experience, even knowing full well the political staging behind it.

Yes, fear was the logical response.

Something needed to be done about Long Feng, that much was now clear. The Dai Li had the Lower Ring well in hand, the Middle Ring might soon follow, and if it did Long Feng wouldn't be satisfied. Lao knew that because he himself wouldn't be, and he was the better man.

What would become of Toph, his precious baby girl, if she grew up in a city run by that thug? A city - a world - where certain types of people who didn't know their place in the natural order of things... no. No. The Avatar was dead, the world was unbalanced, but Lao Bei Fong would _die_ before he stood back and let things finally tip over into the abyss. If the world came undone, it would not be because of Long Feng's ambition.

This Lao swore.

Down on stage, a man was knocked to the ground and began to bleed profusely from a head wound. The crowd cheered. Lao shuddered.


	10. All Aboard the Good Crack Ship Pianzula

**All Aboard the Good Crack Ship Pianzula**

* * *

.

When Fire Lord Azulon decides to make Piandao pay the penalty for his desertion, he orders one hundred elite soldiers into Shu Jing to arrest him. Their subsequent defeat is legendary.

When Fire Lord Ozai decides to make Piandao pay, he sends a single teenage girl.

"I have a proposition for you," the princess says to him. "I'm hunting a traitor. I would be honored to have a great master such as yourself accompany me. You'll find that I am most appreciative of the skills of non-benders."

Piandao says nothing, because he is consumed with the ceremony of preparing two porcelain cups with hot black tea. Like nearly every other item on his estate besides a few swords, his tea service is not antique. Even the few he does own, pre-war swords adorning the walls, pieces forged in an era that prized craft over utility, do not belong to his family. If this bothers her, as it does many nobles, she does not let it show.

He takes one cup and presents it to her. The princess takes it, and when his fingers brush against hers he is struck by their hard, calloused tips. Soldier's hands. At thirteen. She faintly smiles at the miniscule reaction in his eyes, then takes a long, slow drink from her cup. She lets the scalding black tea wash over her tongue, savoring the heat as well as the flavor. If he hadn't felt her hands first, Piandao might be impressed by the show of fortitude. It's really just a circus trick; heat redirection with the tongue. He's fairly sure she's never learned the other uses for it.

But... she does have soldier's hands at thirteen.

"I am honored to be considered for this mission," he says, "but I am retired from the military. My responsibility is to my clients and their weapons purchases."

"Retired." She runs a calloused fingertip around the rim of her teacup. The nail is long; unbroken, unburnt. He ratchets down his chances of survival. "I was under the impression that your departure from the military involved less-than-savoury details."

"If you are referring to those rumors, I am fairly sure that former Admiral Jeong Jeong is the first deserter in our country's long history."

They share a smile over propaganda, but then she tilts her head away from him and takes a longer sip. In profile, the princess is quite striking; womanhood in early bloom. But still thirteen. A woman wouldn't feel the need to preen in front of a man her father's age whose once coal black hair is tinting more towards steel every year. It is flattering, honestly, and because it is flattering he suddenly realizes it is deliberate.

He laughs.

The princess turns back to face him, the skin around her eyes tightening in mild annoyance. His humor is a strange animal for her to see, because who laughs around a young woman with soldier's hands at thirteen? "Princess Azula, I will accompany you on your mission," he says, because even if he beat her in a fight he would be a fugitive for striking royalty. "Before we leave, might I ask you for a small favor?"

"You may."

He glances over her shoulder at Fat, who has been a spider-fly on the wall. With the ease and understanding borne from years of close association, his butler exits the room. A minute later he returns, silently lays out a calligraphy set before the princess, and again takes up his position glued to the wall. Princess Azula never once regards him as he moves around her, performing his servant's duties. It is the first reaction from her today that he knows is not calculated.

He gestures to the blank paper spread out in front of her. "When you write your name, you stamp the paper with your identity. So it is that warrior's stamp their identity on the battlefield."

"You want me to write my name? That's it?" The princess narrows her shining golden eyes at him, then lowers them to the paper. She stares for a moment, then passes her tea cup from one hand to the other. While she holds it, she lowers her free hand and extends a single, slim finger. The brush and ink sit unused as she chars the paper, using delicate, precise motions to sketch out the characters for her name: the feminine form of the constellation of the Azure Dragon of the East.

When she has finished, she looks up at him even as she downs the last of her tea. The princess smirks around the teacup at the unspoken joke: _As if either of us needed to figure out who I am._

"Fat," he says, grinning back at her, "pack my bags."


	11. Hahn and Death

**A/N: **This drabble is a crossover with Neil Gaiman's _Sandman _comic series.

* * *

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**Hahn and Death**

.**  
**

* * *

Hahn sails past Admiral Choi, screaming.

He flies at an angle, and for an instant he's absolutely certain he'll clear the lower deck and land in the water.

He's almost not wrong.

Hahn, tumbling, catches his head on the safety railing. Pain flares, whiting out his vision. It's only several seconds later, as his head clears, that he realizes certain facts. Like he's not wet, or cold, and no one is firebending at him. In fact someone has grabbed hold of his arm, keeping him from falling further.

He looks up.

She's... not Fire Nation.

Twentysomething. White skin. Not pale, _white_ like snow. Sea-raven hair. She's dressed in thin, tight, black clothes - gloves, pants, and a skimpy rag that could only laughably be called a shirt. If he weren't hanging on for dear life, Hahn would appreciate the generous view more.

"Up," she says, and pulls. Hahn does most of the work, getting a footing on the edge of the deck and then pulling himself over the railing. Still, not bad for a girl. When he's standing besides her, she dusts him off with motherly concern, and then impishly twangs one of his shoulder spikes. "Looking sharp, little soldier boy."

Hahn glances around. The sailors on deck are frozen mid-motion. The world is overcast with a smoky dimness. Dread fills him. He turns, peaks over the railing. Down below, in the water, a guy is floating face down.

The chick rests a hand on the small of his back. "You broke your neck hitting the railing."

"Oh." He looks to her. "You're... you're the Spirit of Death."

"No. I _am_ Death."

Hahn doesn't care for the semantics. He never believed in any of this spirit stuff. So what if Yue's hair is white? It was just a pretty color. And if the Avatar is so special, why were he and his friends fighting and dying against these bastards?

His eyes burn at the unfairness of it all. He'll never marry Yue, never be a father, never teach his sons to hunt or watch his daughters marry. His death wasn't even important. He died a joke. "This _sucks_."

Fingering the strange silver symbol dangling from her necklace, Death explains, "I've attended to a lot of battles. Yours was pretty clean as deaths go. That's something. And you were returned to the ocean like your forefathers, not burned to ashes and lost on the winds."

"Yeah," he chokes out. "Will anyone miss me?"

"I will," she says, and it's so earnest that he believes her.

But it's not who he wants to hear it from. "I don't care what I'm reincarnated as," Hahn says to her, wanting to be rid of this place, of his failure, "just as long as it's not in the Fire Nation, okay?"

Death shakes her head. "I don't decide where people go or what happens to them afterwards." She offers him a gloved hand. "I just escort them."

Sighing but already resigned, Hahn takes Death's hand.


	12. It's a Long, Long Way to Ba Sing Se

_Written for clockworkchaos, who prompted me for a fic where Ba Sing Se entered the war in earnest._

* * *

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**It's a Long, Long Way to Ba Sing Se**

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* * *

_(Gaoling, 98 ASC)_

Whenever her father took guests in, Toph rarely left her bedroom. Her parents claimed - when they deigned to talk to her at all - that they didn't want to frighten or exhaust her. Toph was used to being handled but the constant guards on her door meant she couldn't risk nighttime excursions. With no Earth Rumble to watch or badgermole friends to visit, Toph typically entertained herself making the guest bedroom walls creak and groan hungrily in the night. Spooked guests made Toph smile.

On the rare occasions her parents admitted she existed, Toph was fancied up and presented as the perfect little Earth Kingdom porcelain doll: to be seen, not heard. Toph wasn't sure which state of affairs was worse. At least in her bedroom she could lick the soup bowls if she wanted to (and she did).

Tonight, no bowls would be licked.

This dinner was apparently a 'momentous occasion', according to her mother's feverish whispers. Toph wasn't sure about that either, though it was pretty hilarious listening to terrible table manners of the boy sitting across from her. Toph knew you could slurp up soup, but barbecued boar-q-pine haunches? The adults tried valiantly to ignore him. There were two other children there, both girls a little older than Toph, but they were no fun. The boy's sister was aghast at his behavior, none-too-subtlely kicking him under the table every time he gave offensive. The princess sitting at Toph's side, meanwhile, was a model of nobility. Even her giggles were dainty. Toph despised her immensely.

After an unbearably stuffy main course, Toph mimed a fainting spell when her mother was introducing her to some Grand Secretariat guy and was excused. Rather than go back to her guarded bedroom - because her parents didn't fully trusts guests with their fragile little lotus' safety - Toph went for a walk in the estate garden. She was still earthbending obscene images into the buried foundation of the outer wall when she first heard splashing coming from the turtleduck pond. Which didn't make sense, because her father had rid the pond of turtleducks years ago, lest one bite Toph.

Was someone... _playing_ in the turtleduck pond?

Toph HAD to get in on that action.

Approaching them from downwind proved to be a mild mistake. Without the overwhelming scents of cooked food and incense filling the air, Toph could finally tell how much the other kids stunk. It wasn't being unwashed or dirty. Toph knew those smells from exploring Gaoling. No, this was... _not_ aromatic, spirits no, but oddly spicy. Toph couldn't put a name to the kinda-meaty-sorta-armpit-ish smokey flavor.

It was just... foreign. Which made sense, them being Water Tribe and all.

"Watch!" shouted one of the girls. "Gran Pakku taught me this before we left!"

Toph felt the shifting form of the one girl's footsteps as she moved through her dance, ankle-deep in the turtleduck pond. She sense the mud beneath the pond groan as the water's weight shifted, but none of the Water Tribe kids were positioned to be moving so much water. They sure as heck weren't earthbending rocks into the pond.

Unless...

Was that girl bending the water?

Weird.

"Hey, look!" said the sloppy eater, finally noticing Toph's approach. He crept over to her, then kneeled down. "Hell-o. My-name-is-Sok-ka. Frieeeeend?"

Toph snarled. "I'm blind, not stupid."

_"Urk-!"_

"Ignore my brother," said the waterbender. "He's an idiot. I'm Katara. You must be Toph."

"Hi."

"Lady Bei Fong," cooed Princess Prissy Pants, offering her a smooth bow. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Yeah whatever." Toph fixated on Katara. "So you're a waterbender? That's cool. I'm an earthbender."

"Cool!" exclaimed Katara, which made Toph grin with pride.

"An earthbender!" exclaimed a new voice. "Why, what a coincidence, so am I!"

The princess bowed, and the two other kids sketched shallow imitations of the gesture. Toph didn't bother. Blind noblewoman could be forgiven for all sorts of 'stupid' slip-ups.

"King Bumi," said the Water Tribe princess, "we were just enjoying the fresh air."

The elderly king snorted. "Better than the hot air inside." Sok-ka laughed. "Wish I could play in the turtleduck pond, but your fathers and the rest of us old folks will be hammering out the treaty all night. So it'd be better for you kids to find something fun to do. I understand Gaoling hosts these 'Earth Rumble' thingies."

Toph's left ear twitched. "Oh," she said, trying very hard to be casual, "I think I've heard of those. Never been."

King Bumi took out a small bag that unmistakably clinked with coins. "First time for everything. Tickets are on Ol' Bumi."

"Ooo!" said Sok-ka, holding out his hands.

He tossed it to Toph instead. "You look responsible, my dear. Bring me back something from the Rumble." She heard Bumi's tongue slather around his lips. "Candy floss sounds _delicious_. I'd go myself but somebody has to keep an eye on that Long Feng fellow, make sure he doesn't pocket any of the cutlery."

Toph used vibrations to count the coins through the bag. Oh, they'd totally be gorging on the best junk food the Rumble's vendors had to offer. "What's everyone doing in there anyways? My parents wouldn't tell me."

"Oh, you know." Bumi shrugged. "Boring adult stuff."

* * *

_To the peoples of the Fire Nation: _

_And their most august leader, Fire Lord Iroh:_

_For almost a century the Northern Water Tribe, wanting only life and happiness for its people, has resolutely resisted the Fire Nation's wanton acts of aggression. We are a peace-loving nation and wish only to pursue our own national destiny free from outside entanglements._

_Unfortunately the Fire Nation's appetite for death and destruction has proved unending. After the extermination of the pacifistic Air Nomads, the Fire Nation set a national policy of global domination and subjection of the free and independent peoples of the world. From the illegal colonization of Earth Kingdom lands, to the bender genocide among our cousins in the Southern Water Tribe, to the ongoing Rape of Ba Sing Se, the Fire Nation has shown no signs of contrition for its actions, only more aggression. _

_The horrors committed by Fire Nation at Ba Sing Se lay bare her insatiable ambitions and has created a situation that no nation appreciable of human decency can tolerate. The Northern Water Tribe hereby formally declares war on the Fire Nation. We further declare that all treaties, conventions, agreements, and contracts regarding relations between the Northern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation are and remain null and void._

_Being convinced that victory over our common enemy is essential to defending basic goodness and Balance in our own lands as well as in other lands, the Northern Water Tribe further declares that it, along with the United Earth Kingdom and the Southern Water Tribe, will abide by the terms of Gaoling Pact. We have pledged (1) full international military and economic cooperation with fellow Pact members and (2) to not make a separate armistice or peace with the Fire Nation. _

_Together, like the Avatars of old, the membership of the Gaoling Pact will fight to restore goodness and balance to the world. Our combined army and navy will resist further aggression by the Fire Nation until the last firebender has been driven from our sovereign territories. _

_May the Spirits of the Ocean and Moon be with us on this great endeavor!_

_-Supreme Chieftain Arnook_

* * *

**Governor's Mansion, Agricultural Ring**

**Day 1553 of the Siege of Ba Sing Se**

Crown Prince Lu Ten dropped the message down onto his study desk. The midnight blue national seal, inked onto the bottom of the war declaration, gleamed like fresh blood in the lamplight.

"Fuck."

To his side, Captain Jee held up another scroll. This one, unlike Arnook's letter, wasn't made of a weird parchment cut from some bizarre arctic animal's skin. Its paper was premium Earth Kingdom stock; exactly the same grain as found in royal dispatches from the Earth King's desk. "This one has the formal joint declaration of alliance between the three parties."

Lu Ten motioned his aide away. "I already know what it's going to say." Not that it'd stop him from reading it later, once he had collected himself. Lu Ten squeezed the bridge of his nose, mind racing to work out all the implications for this development. "Who's representing the Southern Water Tribe?"

Jee unrolled the scroll. "...Chief Hakoda. No other superlatives, surprisingly. Kuei's just go on and on."

"'Hakoda'," repeated the prince. "Never heard of him." Not that it mattered. The southern hemisphere's Water Tribe had been neutered decades ago. The Northern Water Tribe going on the offensive was going to be the real problem. If the Earth Kingdom could sink to such depravities as mindbending prisoners of war and suicide bombing colonial villages, what savageries could the unenlightened Water Tribals accomplish? _Well, the Navy wanted in on the action._

"Apparently they're calling themselves the Gaoling Pact. It's where the alliance treaty was negotiated."

Lu Ten vaguely recalled that city's name. Southern Earth Kingdom highland merchant hub, hadn't it been? Pretty far for the Northern Water Tribe to go, but they _were_ re-connecting with their southern counterparts. "The Fire Lord will have Secretary Nariaki's head." Because if the Ministry of Intelligence had missed or ignored warning signs about a grand alliance, then Lu Ten would have had Nariaki drawn and quartered if he'd been Fire Lord.

"They know about the comet," Lu Ten continued. "They're must think we're going to do to them what my great-grandfather did to the airbenders, so they figure they have nothing to lose by taking us on now."

Jee chuckled mirthlessly. "'Going to do'?"

"The population control centers are hardly genocide," Lu Ten said, the counter-argument he used with his father easily slipping from his lips. "Pacifying any Earth Kingdom territory always involves a fifteen to twenty percent reduction in population. Going about it more efficiently is no crime."

"Of course," the older officer said smoothy. "My apologies, Prince Lu Ten."

"Good night, Jee." He dismissed the captain with a wave. His impertinence was often useful, if only to avoid surrounding himself with Yes Men, and Father trusted him. Getting rid of him wasn't an option. Even the Crown Prince could make a career limiting move if he offended the Fire Lord.

When he was alone in his expansive office, Lu Ten poured himself a drink and then wandered out onto his balcony. He so rarely was allowed to enjoy the view - he kept his desk out of sight to avoid inviting rebel archers sniping him - but tonight he needed reassurance.

The fertile lands of the Agricultural Zone stretch 'round the mansion where his army made its headquarters. On the horizon, its stonework lambent with orange-yellow firelight, was the Inner Wall of Ba Sing Se. Great banners proclaiming the Fire Nation's conquest of this section of the sub-divided Lower Ring hung for all to see.

Two and half years after breaching the Outer Wall, slogging through the booby-trapped killing fields of the Agricultural Zone, and blasting through the Inner Wall, the Fire Nation still only controlled sixty percent of the city. The Earth Army had raised up new walls inside Ba Sing Se, made them tall and thick. Breaking into each sub-division of the Lower Ring was like busting through the Inner Wall all over again, and securing each zone involved horrific house-to-house fighting. There was no wood left in Ba Sing Se to burn. The natives had scrounged it all up for fuel during the long winter stalemates.

Still, the Lower Ring was nearly theirs with only a few stubborn holdouts remaining, and they'd finally gotten a secure foothold in the Middle Ring. It was becoming a safe place for the surviving residents and new colonists to live in. For all that Ba Sing Se ate up men and lives, those Pacified Zones in the Lower Ring were often the safest in the whole province.

Yet despite the gains, it wasn't enough.

Vast sections of the Agricultural Zone were unsafe to wander after curfew. Even with his newly secured reinforcements from the Home Guard, there simply weren't enough troops to hold down the rebels and their Dai Li minders.

Lu Ten sipped his drink, letting the liquor burn down his throat and warm his stomach, feeling a fresh surge of hatred for his prideful enemy. There was no need for this death and destruction. If only the Earth Kingdom had just surrendered years ago like they were supposed to, all this suffering could have been avoided. Didn't they understand the Fire Nation wanted Ba Sing Se _intact_?

The wealth of Ba Sing Se was in the combination of its people and its fertile fields. People _ate_ in Ba Sing Se... or at least they had. Carefully tended farmland, meticulous records of food stores, kept the city fed even through years of drought; rationing by an invisible hand, one coated in a stone glove. Lu Ten had read the intelligence estimates, the carefully calculated figures based on refugee patterns, population growth projections, and pre-war census figures stolen before the city's walls became Walls. There are - were - over three million pairs of hands residing in the Lower Ring alone. Army Intelligence put the figure left alive in the hostile sub-sectors at nearly eight hundred thousand. While the rest of the world had burned, Ba Sing Se had rolled on as if Sozin and Roku were still in their private little cold war.

When the Fire Nation put Ba Sing Se under the yoke, Lu Ten knew they'd have a workhouse and bread basket capable of supplying the whole of their global empire-to-be. It would be a privileged place to be, the most valuable asset in the whole empire. His father had even planned on leaving the original bureaucracy intact - self-rule by earthbenders was unheard of in the empire. Ba Sing Se had been given every incentive to surrender peacefully after the Outer Wall was breached.

But no.

Instead the Earth Kingdom had chosen to ignore the inevitable outcome of a protracted struggle, forcing Lu Ten's hand towards progressively harsher measures. If the people stopped resisting and consented to firebender rule like they had in the colonies, then there would be no need for the pacification camps and population reduction. But they couldn't get it through their thick, dirt-filled heads that if you brainwashed prisoners of war, if you made the Fire Army fight house-to-house, sector-by-sector, in a booby-trapped stone city that wouldn't burn _then there HAD to be consequences!_

The citizens of Ba Sing Se would rather suffer bread shortages and lice and Dai Li anti-cannibalism patrols then bathe in the warm light of civilization. And that irrationality was why the Fire Nation was destined to win.

Lu Ten raised his glass to the Fire Nation emblem adoring the Inner Wall, toasting a better tomorrow.


	13. Deserters' Tea

**Deserters' Tea**

* * *

.

The inside of the hut is sweltering, yet neither man perspires. Jeong Jeong handles his mismatched earthenware tea service with determined focus, as if teapot and cup alike are packed with blasting jelly. Monk Gyatso accepts the offered drink with a smile, the tension inside the stuffy hut no more important to him that the asking price for a pound of turtle-duck meat in Ba Sing Se's Lower Ring.

The former admiral bows his head. "Nothing I say or do can express my regret for my people's crimes against the Air Nomads."

The airbender samples his thin, wildgrass tea before responding. "An apology is unnecessary. You are not at fault."

"The fire that burns within me is the same force that turned your people to ashes. The guilt of my ancestors is my inheritance."

"I fail to see why," Gyatso says. "You were not even born yet."

"That doesn't change anything! I am still guilty." The aged man bows his head. "Every firebender is guilty."

The monk lifts his cup in a small salute. "This tea is very good. May I accept some dried leafs for the road in exchange for absolving your nation of its many crimes?"

Around the hut, dozens of lit candles flare, briefly illuminating the pair with the intensity of full daylight. "Do _not_ joke about this matter."

"I assure you, I am providing an equivalent amount of seriousness." Gyatso swirls around the dregs at the bottom of his clay cup. "Although I was kidding about the tea. My, this is dreadful stuff!"

Jeong Jeong turns his head away.

"And I can absolve you of nothing," Gyatso adds softly, "because there is nothing you have done that is in my right to forgive. You are not responsible for what happened a hundred years ago. I am."

The deserter regards the elderly airbender with incredulous eyes. "You?"

"If I hadn't allowed Aang to fly that night, hadn't gone with him to talk about the need to accept being the Avatar, then he wouldn't have been caught in that storm and frozen for a century."

Jeong Jeong sets down his own cup and rests his hands on his knees. "If you both had stayed at the temples, or if you'd ran, Sozin would have killed you."

"Perhaps." Gyatso stares down into weak reflection looking back at him from the wildgrass tea. It's as close as he'll ever come to seeing another adult airbender again. "Perhaps not. You might have grown up a shoe cobbler."

Jeong Jeong grins at the ludicrous notion. "Not shoes. My mother was a carpenter." He gestures to the hut's walls. "But I would have joined the navy regardless. For the adventure." The grin on his face is a painful sight now.

Monk Gyatso searches hard for something to say, yet his inward struggle is not reflected on his serene face. He only admits his eventual failure with a sigh. "Thank you for the tea."

"I'll pack you some for the road."


	14. Captain America's Second World War

**A/N: **What if... the Water Tribe siblings had found a different hero in that iceberg? (Hat tip to SeinSchatten for the correction about _Nanook_'s lack of sound.)

* * *

.

**Captain America's Second World War**

.

* * *

The doubts had sprung up almost from the beginning, that gut-deep feeling that something was terribly wrong. Steve Rogers had ignored them. Still feeling lingering sickness from his hibernation in that iceberg, he'd provided himself an explanation for all the strangeness around him.

The eskimos not understanding a lick of English? He was just really far north, as distant you could get from civilization. The eskimos speaking something that sounded like it came from the mouth of a Chinaman? Heck, he had no idea what Eskimo sounded like. The only things he knew about eskimos came from _Nanook of the North_ and that hadn't been a talkie. That girl's power over water? It wasn't the first seemingly supernatural power Steve had seen. Maybe Namor had a distant cousin. The boy's boomerang? Steve had scratched his head over that one, but then finally decided it was some old fur trader's gift from decades ago.

But the bizarre ironclad suspended in the ice near the village? Once Steve had gone aboard it and looked around, he couldn't ignore his gut anymore. The construction of it was like nothing he'd ever seen. It was an ironclad, yes, but the layout, interior architecture, and instrumentation was completely alien. _And where were the guns_? There wasn't so much as a flintlock aboard, but there were plenty of bladed weapons left behind by its crew. It was ludicrous. Even John Paul Jones had fought the Redcoats with cannon!

Now a duplicate of the ironclad was stampeding through the ice-pack, aiming to attack the village. Steve Rogers couldn't understand anything the natives were saying, but the look of fear on their faces was all he needed to know. These innocent folks had showed a stranger kindness. Steve wasn't going to abandon them.

When the disembarking strut of the ironclad lowered, Captain America and his trusty shield were standing between the villagers and their would-be attackers. A trio of them strode off the ship. Steve Rogers instantly knew that these people were _his_ enemies as well. Why? Because some things don't change. Because even on an alien Earth, two malicious soldiers were flanking their leader, a young man...

...with half a _red skull_.


	15. Avatar Shipping Month: Switched

**A/N: **_This drabble was inspired by a fanart by _irish-blessing_ called "Mai and Ty Lee - Switched", that had Ty Lee as the emo girl and Mai as the cheerful one._

* * *

.

**Switched**

.

* * *

"Ty Lee, could that possibly be you?"

The grey-clad acrobat broke out of her routine and kowtowed to her Crown Princess, then rose. Her long braid was fixed at the top with a tiny skull-faced headpiece. Remnant of various different hair dyes - blacks, reds, dark blues and purples - were layered in her braid like geological strata. "Azula," she said, voice monotone. "Your life hasn't ended yet."

Azula smiled, gratified to see that her friend was just as she'd always been, if not moreso. "Please, don't let me interrupt your... whatever it is you were doing."

Ty Lee nodded and returned to contorting her body into shapes that, while not violating the natural order, seemed at odds with the capabilities of humans. The odd bent of her spine and excessive twist to her neck unnerved Azula, which was just what Ty Lee wished.

This was not the first time Azula had been around a warped, mutilated body, however, and she quickly recovered. "Tell me, what is the daughter of a nobleman doing here? Certainly our parents didn't send us to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls to end up in... places like this."

Ty Lee sighed, yet she did not know why. If man could be said to have anything approaching a 'destiny', it was to never be understood by others. "We are, all of us, born into this world screaming. We're trained not to cry at the world's senseless chaos, and we fool ourselves that we can be the masters of anything, but entropy denies any order we imagine or try to impose on the world. Fire consume everything until it burns out. Water bent to ice will melt, in time. Weather erodes the walls of Ba Sing Se, even as the men that defend their heights from other men maintain the illusion of their perminance by replacing that which time has worn away. Perhaps the airbenders grasped the transient nature of their element, or perhaps not. Either way I will go out tonight to perform on that high-wire, demonstrating that fearing the prospect of death is as absurd as blithely appreciating the numbing safety of everyday life."

Azula stared back her friend.

"Let me explain my thesis more succinctly," Ty Lee said. "Have you ever realized that you're perfectly free to carve off your own fingers and eat them, one by one, until you pass out from pain or blood loss?"

Blood drained from the princess's face. "I... I hadn't realized that."

"You should." Ty Lee reached up with her left foot and squeezed Azula's shoulder. "You really should."

* * *

...

* * *

The governor's wife and his daughter, Mai, walked through Omashu. Even in the nighttime, Mai inspired watery eyes in those that had the misfortunate to look upon her. Torchlight exposed garish colors - vomit green, pink, sky blue, and orange. _Lots_ of orange.

It seemed to be the case that Mai had looked at her closet one day and said "Why the hell not?" before picking clothes out at random to throw on. Yet the matching multi-colored odango ornaments in her hair served as a horrifying counter-argument that Mai had indeed designed her outfit with deliberate care.

"I'm so boooooored."

Behind the two noblewomen, their escort guards shivered. A bored Mai was never a good Mai.

"Dear," said the older woman, "your father was appointed governor. We're like royalty here. Be happy and enjoy it."

Mai rolled her head around her shoulders, as if limbering up for a fight. "At least back home Azula let me watch her burn people. Are you sure we can't throw a public execution or two?"

"No."

"Pretty please? I won't even ask to hold the executioner's axe this time!"

"I said 'no', Mai."

The teen folded her hands together, rainbow glitter painted fingernails sparkling as the women passed under a brightly lit stone archway. "Pwwwwease?"

"_Young lady_, I already said-"

It was then that several tons of masonry came tumbling towards the pair, only to explode into a harmless cloud of dust. As far as assassination attempts went, it was pitiful, but the Fire Nation people appreciated the thought that went into the attempt.

The governor's wife pointed to a nearby boy dressed in saffron and cried, "The resistance!"

Mai fist-pumped the air. "DATTEBAYOOO!" She, the bastard love-child of a rainbow, then whipped out several dozen knives in each hand and sprinted off after the boy assassin.

"Wait!" her mother cried out. "Take them alive and-"

But Mai was already gone, the only evidence of her in the nighttime a rapidly fading, excited chant of, "Knife knife knife knife KNIFE knife knife knife knife knife knifeknifeknifeKNIFEknife!"

"-oh, forget it."

* * *

...

* * *

Backstage, Ty Lee busied herself with washing off the congealed ostrich-horse blood she doused herself with before every performance. "You're impromptu additions to my show were inspired, Azula. Having the audience watch those majestic animals tear each other to pieces really highlighted the true bestial nature of what we commonly whitewash as 'humanity'. The parallel between their suffering and my walking the high-wire really highlight my ultimate message as an artist."

"Thank you?"

"I'm not sure about keeping the flaming net as part of my routine, however. It presents a subtext of fixed moral judgement and punishment should any of us 'fall off our high-wire', as it were. I want my audience not to be afraid of the ultimate end that inevitably awaits us all."

"Um... right." Azula rubbed the back of her neck. "Look, I was trying to be subtle about this, but I'm not really giving you an option about joining me on this mission."

The acrobat paused. "I see."

"And seeing you out there tonight just reinforced my belief that I need you, Ty Lee. I need ' The Girl Without Fear' on my side."

"Without Fear?" Ty Lee bowed her head, lips quirked in sardonic amusement. "You're mistaken. I'm afraid all the time, Azula. Who wouldn't be? We live in a world where preteen vegetarian pacifists were genocided due to our nation's foreign policy ambitions, where those people's last survivor possesses the power to annihilate the human race should he choose." She smiled wanly. "How absurd our existence is, no?"

Azula rubbed her forehead, wishing the burgeoning headache away. "Sure. Whatever."

"I will join you," Ty Lee said. "However, please be aware my joining you does not necessarily increase your odds of success. My presence may help you bring in Zuko and your uncle alive. Or it may accidentally result in circumstances that lead to both of our deaths."

"Just... just pack your bags. I'll be outside."

Ty Lee nodded and returned to bathing herself.

* * *

...

* * *

Later, as the three of them were leaving Omashu, Mai told her dour friend, "Thaaaa~aanks for saving my baby brother."

"Don't thank me," Ty Lee replied evenly. "I may have subjected him to a lifetime of pain and sorrow that might otherwise been avoided if he died."

"Or he'll be super-happy!" Mai threw an arm around her friend's shoulder. "So we're tracking down the some traitors, huh? It'll be interesting seeing Zuko again, won't it, Ty Lee?"

The existentialist acrobat turned her head away. Maybe she blushed. Maybe she didn't. Time moved forwards regardless.


	16. Avatar Shipping Month: Suki On Liberty

**Suki On Liberty**

.

* * *

Passersby on the street shoot looks at Suki that alternate between dirty and disbelief. The depths of winter are ravaging Ba Sing Se, or so she's been told, and her light cotton robe's elbow-length sleeves look ridiculous to the locals.

Growing up on Kyoshi Island has made her blasé in the face of what passes for the cold season at milder latitudes, but Suki still has a hard time buying the locals bundling up against a gentle, chilly breeze. There isn't even _snow_ on the ground.

The officials at Full Moon Bay would only give her and her team days off as individuals and never all at the same time. So everyone had gone into the city one-by-one. This weekend is Suki's turn at last, and she has a helpful list written up by her girls advising her where to best spend her time: namely, at bars, getting laid.

Never let it be said her team doesn't look out for her best interests at heart.

Suki isn't sure what she wants tonight, so she randomly picks one of the bars - a place named Yíndàng's - helpfully listed under 'for boys and girls'.

Back home, people were so closely knit that you have to always be vigilant about your reputation. Her especially. Leaders must be an example to all people, and they can't do that if their personal lives are fodder for gossip.

Walking inside Yíndàng's, Suki forces herself to keeping breathing. No one knows who she is, which is pretty nice.

She takes a seat at the bar, orders some lychee wine, and starts scoping out the place.

There are people scattered around in ones and twos, along with a group of laughing women at a shaded corner table. At the far end of the bar, a young bureaucrat with ink-stained fingertips toys with his glass. He's lean, with dark skin and black hair that dusts her shoulders. Oh, she could work off a few fantasies with this one, couldn't she? If only he was wearing blue. Suki tries to catch his attention with a smile, but the bureaucrat only has eyes for the bottom of his drink.

"You're quite the puzzle," says a voice to her right, and Suki turns to find a cat's grin plastered on a girl's face.

It takes two seconds for Suki to remember that she's supposed to flirt back. "Oh?"

The nameless girl has dark brown hair styled into pigtails. It's a childish look, but the sheen in her mossy green eyes is anything but innocent. "Posture's too confident for a refugee, don't dress well enough to be a merchant, and your posture is all wrong for a noble gutter slumming. With those muscles, I'd say..." She cupped a finger to her upper lip, prolonging her measure of Suki. "Caravan guard?"

Suki nurses her lychee wine. "Mmm. Of sorts." She wipes off her damp lips with calloused fingertips. "I'm Suki."

"Jin." The girl with the cat's smile gestures vaguely around the bar. "So how are you enjoying our city?"

"I just arrived, actually. It's pretty amazing how big it is. Crowded, but amazing."

"I'm glad. After you finish that drink, do you want to go for a long walk to talk or should we just head straight to your place?"

Suki bursts out laughing.

Jin quirks her lips in the cat's grin again. "You're not nearly drunk enough for that line to work, are you?"

In response, Suki slams back her wine in one gulp. She sets her glass down with a smile that projects more boldness than she really feels. "No, but I like confidence," she gasps through a burning throat. "Let's go."


	17. The Avatar Viewers Didn't See

_Warning for darkfic._

* * *

.

**The Avatar Viewers Didn't See**

.

* * *

In another world, Aang isn't the last airbender.

* * *

...

* * *

"We need to get to the Oasis!" the Avatar says as she stands, her long brown streaming to one side in the wind. She shivers, but not because of the cold. Sokka slips an arm around her, bringing her close to share his warmth. "The spirits are in trouble!"

After they climb back aboard Appa, the Avatar grabs the reins... and hesitates. She glances towards the half-buried Fire Nation prince.

"Wait," she says, "we can't just leave him here."

Sokka deadpans, "Sure we can. Let's go."

"No," she says, standing, "if we leave him, he'll die."

The Avatar hops off Appa and starts walking towards Zuko. Behind her, Sokka loudly complains, "Yeah, this makes a lot of sense. Let's bring the guy who's constantly trying to kill us!"

The Avatar slows.

The Avatar stops.

Sokka meant it as a flippant remark, but his words seize her brain like a bad fever. Zuko has chased her and her friends across the world. Even when he rescued her from that stronghold, he had no interest in looking past their differences. Since then, he'd wrecked a peaceful abbey and desecrated the Spirit Oasis to capture her.

If she saves him now, he'll surely resume their chase, and then what harm will he bring the world next? But if she leaves him here, he'll freeze to death. That blood will be on her hands, just as surely as it would be if she lets Prince Zuko continue his chase.

If Zuko won't stop, then the real questions are...

Whose blood? On whose hands?

* * *

...

* * *

_(General Fong's manic efforts to invoke the Avatar State in her end with him grasping at his throat, crimson seeping through clenched fingers. Her friends are safe, she tells herself. Her friends are safe and she saved_ their_ lives by taking this man's.)_

_(In Omashu, the Avatar spins her staff, generating an air vortex that reverses the course of the inbound stiletto. The blade returns to its sender, burying itself in Mai's heart. The Avatar cries herself to sleep that night in the rebel base, reminding herself of Kyoshi Island burning and the Moon Spirit dying all because she wasn't willing to bloody her hands fighting her enemies.)_

_(Tired and exhausted after the long chase, it's all the Avatar can do to keep up with Princess Azula's blue flames. It's only a momentary distraction - the unexpected arrival of her friends, their blue Water Tribe clothes covered in Ty Lee's red blood - that gives the Avatar a window to carve open Azula's chest with a diagonal air slice. She forces herself to watch the pool of blood expand around the princess's still body, to watch her ragged breathing slow and finally stop. However bad this is, the Avatar reminds herself, the price of mercy for evildoers is higher.)_

_(The Dragon of the West, blinded by vengeance, levels the Misty Palms Oasis and injures dozens of innocents before their battle is through. The Avatar ends the grief-stricken firebender's terror by slicing open his belly with a perfectly thrown ice saw blade. Those cowering in the oasis's ruins applaud her after the firebender falls. She screams at them that, while she committed this crime for their sake, she didn't commit it for their entertainment.)_

_(The sandbenders cower before her, begging for mercy, but the Avatar doesn't let their wailing sway her. Ghashiun and his cohorts are scavengers who prey on the weak and the vulnerable. The lives she'll save by ending theirs make the self-sacrifice of bloodying her hands worth it.)_

_(She let Long Feng and Dai Li be subjected to the Earth King's judgment once already. That was a terrible mistake, one on par with Kyoshi's decision to create them in the first place. The Avatar rectifies both errors by shattering Long Feng's coup and wiping out the Dai Li to the last man. Because of her, for the first time in centuries the people of Ba Sing Se are _free._)_

_(When Roku takes her back in time to their shared past, all she can think is how so much suffering could have been avoided if her predecessor had put the needs of the world above his own.)_

_(The Fire Lord, his war council, and his royal court all hide in subterranean metal bunkers on the Day of the Black Sun, but that isn't enough to save them. The Avatar State takes their palatial city, a place built on the back of a century's worth of human suffering, and caves it in on their heads. The pillar of ash that rises up from the annihilated capital signals a new age for the Fire Nation; a return to peace, justice, and Balance.)_

* * *

...

* * *

The Avatar turns around. "You're right, Sokka."

"I am?"

Katara asks, "He is?"

Through tears that freeze on her cheeks in the arctic air, she explains, "The nuns raised me to understand that killing was wrong, but I'm the Avatar. My duty is to the world, and that means I have to sacrifice my own spiritual needs and do whatever it takes to protect the world."

"Avatar," Yue says, "are you sure?"

She makes herself look at Prince Zuko before she responds. Full of melancholy, she admits, "Yes."

Hours later, snow falls on the prince's unmoving body. Soon he is hidden from sight, lost forever in an endless snowfield of pure whiteness.

* * *

...

* * *

In another world, Aang isn't the last airbender.

Yangchen is.


	18. The Ghost Who Said Hello to the Moon

**The Ghost Who Said "Hello" to the Moon**

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* * *

It was an infected broken leg that felled Malu, the last surviving airbender of the Eastern Air Temple, but the Ghost of Witch Mountain carried on regardless.

She lived on in the minds of the Earth Kingdom villagers who dwelt in Witch Mountain's shadow. Their children and grandchildren would continue the tradition of leaving alms on their window sills for the shadowy figure that rescued people lost in the woods. Firebenders regaled bar halls with stories of their encounters with the otherworldly specter who raided convoys for food and medicine.

The Ghost of Witch Mountain, they said, was a young girl with wild, shaggy brown hair. She was a wolfing, half-mad but _free_; a small child who miraculously survived Sozin's Purge only to be raised by the spirits of dead airbending nuns. Gentle to those without malice, firm but playful with her enemies, she was a symbol of innocent resistance to the war, the last echo of a bygone time of peace. And in the retelling of her story in all its variations, mass belief gave birth to a nascent spirit.

While Malu's bones bleached under the sun, her spirit lived on in the Ghost. There would be no broken legs stopping her now. She would walk the trails of Witch Mountain for as long as her story was told and people believed.

Decades later, when a new Moon shone down on Witch Mountain, the Ghost looked up at the starry sky in wonder. Unlike the villagers at the foot of her mountain, the spirit-girl knew that the moonlight was... different. Curious, the Ghost climbed to the summit of Witch Mountain and called out from its highest peak, "Hello, Moon! How are you doing tonight?"

Here the Moon Spirit paused in her journey across the sky, because this was the first time anyone had asked her such a question. In her first life, Yue had rarely been asked about her feelings, and those who once knew her from then now thought her dead. This second life was a terrifying thing, for the Ocean Spirit still mourned his lost love and would only dance with her in silence. The Moon Spirit was glad to have anyone speak to her, so she went down to Witch Mountain to answer the spirit-girl who'd spoken to her.

"H-hello," said the Moon Spirit. "I'm... I'm fine, thank you." She wasn't sure how spirits were supposed to behave, but her father had always told her that a princess was to be composed at all times to set an example. You never knew who was watching.

"You seem worried. Are you okay?"

"I'm new at this," the Moon Spirit admitted.

The Ghost understood. "You get used to it, being alive but not."

"Y-you do?"

She nodded. "You seem much nicer than the old Moon Spirit. She never talked with anyone but her husband." The Ghost of Witch Mountain smiled. "Would you like to be friends?"

The white-haired Moon Spirit nodded, grateful not to be alone in such a strange world. "I'm Yue. Or I was, before."

This the spirit-girl understood too. "I'm the Ghost of Witch Mountain, but my friends call me Malu." And with that, the once-human airbender extended an open hand. The Moon Spirit, floating over the summit of the mountain, leaned down and took up the offering.

From then on, when the villagers living around the mountain looked up, everyone agreed that the Moon seemed to shine more brilliantly upon Witch Mountain than anywhere else on all the Earth.


	19. A Pocket Guide to Ba Sing Se

**A Pocket Guide to Ba Sing Se**  
_**Prepared by**_  
**THE DEPARTMENT OF URBAN OCCUPATION, MINISTRY OF COLONIAL AFFAIRS**

* * *

**INTRODUCTION**

BA SING SE has been at war with the Fire Nation for one hundred years. During that time, she has resisted any attempt by our people to conquer her militarily. It was only by the cunning of Princess Azula and Prince Zuko that finally brought defeat to the Earth Kingdom's capital.

You and your outfit are now charged with overseeing the peaceful occupation of Ba Sing Se. It is in your hands that the Fire Lord has entrusted the safekeeping of our empire's crown jewel. While this mission is a military one, it is very different from the kind you may be used to, for your battlefield will be in the hearts and minds of the city's inhabitants.

The purpose of this guide to aid you in understanding the culture and customs of Ba Sing Se. It will only take you 15 minutes to read and will enhance your ability to perform your sworn duty to Fire Lord and country. This will be vital since you and the other members of the occupation force will be outnumbered 170-1.

* * *

**FORGET YOUR OLD NOTIONS**

YOU MAY have encountered Earth Kingdom civilians during the course of your military career, or during your initial training in the Colonies. Such people would have lived in designated residential zones in the Colonies where their safety could be assured, or in villages that you helped incorporate into the empire. The residents of such villages boasted poor hygiene, illiteracy, and backwards gender-specific labor restrictions. These are not your typical Ba Sing Se residents. Would you judge residents of the Fire Nation Capital by a small village you found on a random rainforest island? Of course not. That would be ridiculous.

Ba Sing Se was the capital of the Earth Kingdom. As such, it was a bastion of civilization that was unsurpassed until the Sozin Era. While its residents have fallen behind in the Great March of Civilization these past hundred years, their traditions are nowhere near as backwards as you'd expect from foreigners. This is because they have not experienced the privilege of life in our culture, not because of any inherent fault to their condition.

Dissident elements within Ba Sing Se's populace will harp on antiquated notions like that there are four nations, no more and no less. They will say that we look down on earthbenders and their kin as sub-humans. If you treat the people of Ba Sing Se any differently than you would your own countrymen and countrywomen, then you're playing right into the rebels' hands. Remember that!

The people of Ba Sing Se will have their own expectations of the Fire Nation military. Again, it is your duty to show them that their beliefs are mistaken by setting a positive example.

* * *

**THE EARTH KINGDOMERS ARE LIKE US**

OF ALL the backwards peoples of the world, the Earth Kingdom is the most like Fire Nation. We share a love of culture and duty.

One likeness we share is that we are both humorous peoples. They too laugh at the same stock jokes - inept bureaucrats, healers, and Water Tribals. Firebender and earthbender alike can laugh over waterbenders shivering inside their snow houses.

The residents of Ba Sing Se are also a meticulous, hard-working people. Any soldier assigned to occupation duty will have to travel through the famed Agricultural Zone. It is through centuries of diligent labor and collective administration that the desert wastes that surrounded Ba Sing Se have been transformed into fertile farmlands that feed this metropolis's 12,500,000 inhabitants.

Those farmers who live in the Agricultural Zone understand, like our brave colonists do, that their city brethren depend on them as a vital social link in the chain of civilization that binds them together.

* * *

**YOUR FIRST IMPRESSIONS**

YOUR first impression of Ba Sing Se may be that you are witnessing a nightmarish scene culled from a satirist's dark parody of city life. You might ask yourself or your comrades how so many people could be packed into so small a space without going mad. Such feelings are understandable. Your unease will pass in time as you adjust your notion of what qualifies as acceptable living space.

Next you might be surprised by how clean the city appears, despite it seeming overpopulated. This is because Ba Sing Se boasts two of the Four Wonders of the World, just like the Fire Nation does. While Ba Sing Se's intricate and extensive network of subterranean sewers might not get the attention that the fertile Agricultural Zone or the mighty Gates of Azulon do, their design must be appreciated for its effectiveness.

Residents of the city have a saying: "Your rights end at my nose." Cleanliness is prized in Ba Sing Se despite the lack of plentiful hot water one would find in a Fire Nation city. As such, residents favor perfumed soaps and incense to compensate for government-mandated water rationing. Watch yourself before you comment on someone's odor in Ba Sing Se. It can be taken as a great insult, which is undesirable. Grit your teeth and bear unpleasant odors while associating with civilians. They do not realize the affect their cover-ups have on the untrained.

Consequently, if you are a firebender, your services will be much-appreciated by the natives of Ba Sing Se. Hot water for bathing is considered a luxury of the Middle and Upper Rings, since fuel is also rationed by the city government.

* * *

**GIRLS FROM BA SING SE**

ONE CANNOT speak of Ba Sing Se without mentioning its famed female population. While occupation authorities encourage friendly and respectful fraternization, there are express limits to your actions.

In order to foster good relations between the Fire Nation and its newest subjects, General Order 12 has been issued. It states that any soldier found guilty by a military tribunal of raping a civilian within Ba Sing Se will be publicly executed to serve as a warning to his or her fellows. Since our glorious occupation has outlawed the backwards Ba Sing Se method of exacting justice - impressment until asphyxiation - a guilty party will be subjected to the most humane of methods: death by hanging.

While some fraternization between soldiers and civilians is unavoidable, bear in mind that General Order 13 forbids inter-national marriage. Remember: miscegenation isn't just immoral, it's against the law. Any soldier found to have fathered or to be carrying a half-breed child will be subject to an 800 _li_ fine and thirty days in jail. Any civilian found guilty of being party to this unpatriotic crime will receive twenty lashings and six months imprisonment.

* * *

**THE DAI LI**

WHILE the notion of employing earthbenders as law enforcement agents in occupied territory seems unthinkable, it is important to remember that the Dai Li have a long history of maintaining the peace and security of Ba Sing Se. Since Chin's Rebellion some 370 years ago, the Dai Li have constantly safeguarded the cultural heritage of Ba Sing Se. It is this spirit of forward-thinkingness and their appreciation for civilization that led them to serve Princess Azula and Prince Zuko in the takeover of Ba Sing Se.

You should think of the Dai Li as being similar in function to the Fire Nation's Judicial Soldiers Corps. However, unlike them, the Dai Li have never possessed any connection to their country's military. They are a civilian law enforcement agency.

Recently there have been several highly public incidents involving extra-judicial acts committed against Dai Li or suspected Dai Li agents by the civilians of Ba Sing Se. Because of this, nighttime curfews are now strictly enforced. Be prepared to present identification if you are stopped by patrols during the night. The Dai Li are the Fire Nation's trusted friends. In order to demonstrate our good word among the city's residents, we must protect these valuable allies.

* * *

**FORBIDDEN SUBJECTS OF CONVERSATION**

IN ORDER TO foster good relations, soldiers are advised to avoid engaging civilians in conversation about certain topics. Please be advised that the following subjects are considered sensitive and, for the sake of peace and harmony in the Fire Lord's latest domain, should not be broached if at all possible:

* The issue of Earth Kingdom land or property confiscated during the pacification and absorption of unlawful zones into the Fire Nation Colonies.

* Whether someone is a native to Ba Sing Se or a refugee.

* The location or status of a refugee's former hometown.

* The Fire Nation Colonies and our colonists.

* The 600 Day Siege of Ba Sing Se.

* The Dai Li.

* The deposed Earth King Kuei.

* The executions of the Council of Five and Long Feng.

* Supreme Bureaucratic Administrator Joo Dee.

* Anything relating to the Avatar.

* Insurrections in other Fire Nation administered territories.

* If a civilian is happy or not under Fire Nation rule.

* Sozin's Comet.

* * *

**IMPORTANT THINGS TO REMEMBER**

YOU MIGHT be surprised to see that a minority of Ba Sing Se's residents, mostly among the refugee class in the Lower Ring, boast Fire Nation features. While a century ago golden irises might have clearly distinguished one as a foreigner to the Earth Kingdom, today illicit intermixing by wayward colonials has blurred the line between our two peoples. Be cautious of those mongrels who would take advantage of their outwardly friendly features at your expense. These half-breeds are still subject to General Order 13 with regards to pure-blooded soldiers.

It is uncommon but legal for two persons of the same gender to be considered romantically involved in Ba Sing Se. This is because the Earth Kingdom did not instill the importance of family life and raising children in their citizens. For the sake of good relations with the Fire Lord's new subjects, please do not point out the unproductive backwardness of this behavior.

The most severe insult in Ba Sing Se's culture is to knock down a wall or door. It is analogous to profaning the Fire Lord's character. Unless the execution of your duties to the Fire Nation absolutely demands it, NEVER knock down a wall or door.

Ba Sing Se residents prize compliance to law and order. Calmly explain the illegality of someone's actions and they will defer to your judgment as an agent of the occupational authorities. Shouting is unnecessary.

Because of the extreme urban density of Ba Sing Se's Lower and Middle Rings, people live in close quarters with only thin walls to separate their apartments. Thus speaking conversationally in a loud voice is considered impolite.

Unlike in rural areas, it is not considered strange in Ba Sing Se for females to hold jobs or to ask men out on dates.

One cannot speak of Ba Sing Se without mentioning its public monorail system. While it might be unnerving to see earthbenders practicing their abilities in public, be at ease. These are government employees, licensed under and bound by the Treaty of Assimilation signed by Ba Sing Se's Supreme Bureaucratic Administrator. They are here to help and serve you.

The seats at the front of every monorail car are reserved by unspoken custom for the elderly, the pregnant, or wounded veterans.

If a monorail fills up after you've boarded, be a gracious victor and give your seat up for local residents.

* * *

**YOU ARE OUR AMBASSADOR**

NEVER IN WARTIME has so great a prize been won with so little bloodshed. Thanks to your Prince and Princess, Ba Sing Se is now where it always belonged - in Fire Nation hands. We have an unprecedented opportunity to step forward, together, with our new allies in Ba Sing Se into a brave future under Fire Lord Ozai's rule.

Your good behavior is the key to ensuring the success of the occupation. Don't jeopardize the mission. Millions of wary Earth Kingdomer eyes are watching you, waiting to see if you betray the fragile trust they have for their new masters.

* * *

_For use by military personnel only. Not to be redistrubted, in whole or in part, without the consent of the Ministry of Colonial Affairs._

* * *

**A/N:** This 'fictional document' fic was based on this real-world document, titled "A Pocket Guide to China". It was issued by the U.S. War Department to American soldiers who were serving in China during the Second World War. I took my fic's section headings from it, as well as the general vibe. Oh, and the bit about how 'two cultures share a love of jokes'. The major difference is that, in real life, this sort of guide was issued to soldiers who were serving as allies to the Chinese against a common enemy (the Japanese). The guide in my fic is for soldiers who are serving as a occupying force in a foreign country. But that's the joy of fanfic, doing fun riffs on things you don't own the copyright for.

...

Please don't sue.


	20. Last Reproach

**Last Reproach**

.

Lu Ten sits in his tent and contemplates the knife laid out before him.

This, he tells himself, is the only way.

Since the siege began, the act of breaching the Outer Wall had taken on mythological connotations. "No one has ever done it," Lu Ten has heard time and again. "Chin controlled the rest of the Earth Kingdom, yet he chose to fight the Avatar rather than invade Ba Sing Se. When we breach the Wall, our flag will fly over the Earth King's palace by the New Year."

Yet a nagging voice within Lu Ten always wanted to ask, "And why exactly did a continent-spanning army of earthbenders choose to avoid ending their civil war?"

Over six hundred days, Lu Ten has formulated some notions as to why. Perhaps Chin wanted Kyoshi to bestow upon him a Mandate of Heaven. Or maybe Chin believed defeating the Avatar would cow the Earth King into surrendering without a fight.

Yet now, having aided in the breakthrough of the Outer Wall and securing the Fire Nation's foothold inside the Agriculture Zone, Lu Ten knows the bone-deep truth why Chin's Rebellion never attacked Ba Sing Se.

It's because Chin knew better.

Over seven thousand men to secure the Breach before the earthbenders could repair it. Another thousand lost in the honeycomb of tunnels within the Wall, pushing the Earth Kingdom soldiers back. Fifteen hundred men just to take the defensive ridge the earthbenders had built where they knew the Breach was going to take place.

Nearly ten thousand men, and that is counting only the _dead_. Twice has many had been wounded with scars and injuries that they would carry for the rest of their lives. And there are miles to go before the army reaches the Inner Wall. Ba Sing Se will be a meat grinder for the souls and limbs of an entire generation.

Lu Ten has tried reasoning with him, persuading him to anticipate the horrors that await the Fire Nation, but the Dragon of the West only has eyes for doing the impossible: conquering Ba Sing Se. The methods and cost are unimportant.

But what value had the city's agricultural fields if they were ripped apart and burned in the act of taking them? What tax could be collected from the city's citizens if they fought to the bitter end?

Better to wait for the Comet.

Better to go home.

But such talk is pointless. Their last meeting ended with his father berating him in front of the General Staff, calling him a coward. So Lu Ten will make his father pay attention.

Sozin outlawed the ancient customs of ritual suicide, but Lu Ten studied them as part of his history lessons. Once, subjects in the Fire Nation could protest their superior's decisions through suicide. It was the ultimate reproach, to sacrifice your life for both your beliefs and the well-being of your misguided superior.

The knife... does its work. Lu Ten quickly wraps bandages around his midsection, and the horizontal cut seeps red through the white.

It looks a little like a flower.

Grimacing, Lu Ten rises to his feet. His insides burn. The bandage holds for now. Staggering outside, he makes for the general's tent.

This time his father _will_ listen. And once he does, Lu Ten will say goodbye.


	21. Salvation Lies Within

**Salvation Lies Within**

.

Guards take Ozai out of his cell once a week for an hour of exercise. The Phoenix King spends that time with his face covering his hands, eyes watering behind clenched fingers. Once, a sun twinned to that in the heavens burned inside his breast. Now it hurts to look at a sunlight sky.

There is nothing but ashes inside him.

* * *

...

* * *

"Where is my mother?"

Bored, Ozai occupies himself with a handful of pebbles found in the corner of his cell.

"Answer me."

"Or what?" He flicks a pebble at his boy. The tiny stone ricochets off the Fire Lord's headpiece with a _ting_. "Find something to take from me first. I'd be surprised to see it."

* * *

...

* * *

Eventually Ozai forces himself to drag his hands down. Fresh air and open skies are a welcome reprieve from the hovel of his cell. He would not deny himself their pleasures.

If he doesn't look at the sun, he can still stand the blue skies.

* * *

...

* * *

Nightmarish memories of that battle consume him. Nothing Ozai does stops them. The Avatar evades and dodges, taking far longer than he'd anticipated to succumb, until the child drops his charade and smites Ozai.

He understands, now, why Azula had to face him four times before she _almost_succeeded in killing him, why Sozin waited until the Comet came to slaughter pacifistic monks and nuns. His boyhood tutors were fools. Negative jing has a power all its own.

Fire Nation Avatars being reborn as airbenders no longer seems a farce.

* * *

...

* * *

The guards don't bother him in the exercise yard. He gives them no cause to. Ozai stands in the middle of the yard, hands and feet chained, staring up into a blue sky.

Wind once cooled honest sweat off his body, but muscles cultivated over a lifetime of keen training have wasted away from disuse. Yet the wind is still pleasurable. He wonders why.

Gradually, Ozai begins to understand.

* * *

...

* * *

"Where is mother?"

Second verse, same as the first. Or fiftieth. Ozai has lost count.

The boy sneers at the pathetic figure he now cuts, not understanding that big muscles are dead weight to one such as him. "I'll talk with the masons. I felt a draft on my way in. I wouldn't want you smelling more fresh air than necessary."

Ozai waits until the boy leaves to grin.

* * *

...

* * *

The exercise yard is for relaxing. His cell is for training.

He has no hope of replicating his older brother's achievement of smashing out of the Capital Prison. His firebending is gone. But there are other ways to fight, other paths to victory. The Avatar proved so, by punishment and by unthinking example.

Ozai occupies himself with a handful of pebbles. He stares at them and imagines fresh bread, ankles and wrists without sores, and an existence without iron bars.

Slowly, lazily, the pebbles resting on his palm begins to twirl on bent air.

Ozai smiles in the darkness. And why shouldn't he?

To a phoenix, ashes are merely the cradle for a new life.


	22. Gone Tomorrow

**Maikka Fortnight 2010: Gone Tomorrow**

.

* * *

Mai began as an idle curiosity and grew into obsession.

Sokka hadn't even known her name for the longest time, not until that balloon-ride where Zuko confessed to leaving his gloomy girlfriend behind. Yet despite the lack of attribution beforehand, Mai had never been far from Sokka's thoughts.

He hadn't gotten a good look at her after she'd attacked Aang for foiling an assassination attempt against her - that would be a telling moment about her character, in retrospect - but during the prisoner exchange a little while later it was all Sokka could do to keep his weapon in hand as he fought her. He couldn't get her out of his head after that day.

He'd tried to tarry after Appa did a pal a favor and slapped Azula's cronies into the river, but no-fun Katara pulled him away to go rescue Aang. Later, he'd been disappointed when Mai didn't follow him into the slurry pipe. In that long month of wheel spinning in Ba Sing Se, Sokka devoted his free time to working her out... to no avail.

Sokka had imagined submarines and torpedoes, planned a raid into the beating heart of the Fire Nation, killed an airship fleet with his brain, but he couldn't figure out Mai. Just when he'd almost gotten her out of his system, their glancing encounter at the Boiling Rock rekindled his fever.

It was only a month after the war had ended, when they'd all gathered in General Iroh's tea shop following the official Armistice signing, that Sokka finally had a chance to speak with the girl who had occupied such a central place in his thoughts for so very, very long.

Sokka waited until there was a quiet moment when she was alone before approaching.

"Um, hi."

Mai stared at him. Or maybe through him. It was hard to tell with her.

"You might remember me. I'm the boomerang guy."

"You're not the waterbender?"

Sokka blinked. "Um, no. That's my sister."

"Huh."

"I have a girlfriend-"

"Who has bigger biceps than you."

"-and she's not the Avatar."

Mai sipped her tea. "That doesn't rule you out being involved with the Avatar. We were taught airbenders were carnal devils who practiced open relationships and free love."

Sokka thought that wasn't a bad philosophy, honestly, until he realized that, if it was true, his sister was dating such a devil. "Ew. No. Just... gross."

She stared through him.

"L-look," Sokka said, pushing forward before his determination to end this obsession faded, "I've been thinking about you A LOT ever since we met in Omashu and-"

Now she was staring _at_ him.

"-I can't stop it. You're the last thing I think about every night before I go to sleep, and whenever I have to take some time to use the Little Boy's Bush in the woods you pass the time along when things are slow for me-"

Now she was glaring daggers at him. No. Wait. She was reaching for the daggers in her sleeves.

"-because Aang's a vegetarian and so Katara doesn't like to cook two completely separate meals for everyone so I have a salad now and then and it's too much fiber-"

Something that should not be pressed against a man's nether regions suddenly was.

Sokka gulped. "I'm just saying, I have a question I need to ask."

Passionlessly, she asked, "Oh? And what would that be?"

He reached out...

...and poked her in one of her ball-shaped hairbuns.

"How do these work?" Sokka asked. "They're _freaky_."

* * *

...

* * *

Zuko, holding a tray of fresh tea in his hands, strolled up to the table where his girlfriend and best buddy were. As he set down their drinks, the novice Fire Lord noted that an array of papers had been spread out over the tabletop. Sokka was energetically sweeping a finger over one of the papers, and in reply Mai was shaking her head in the negative. Sokka looked briefly crestfallen, then angrily bunched up the paper and reached for a new one. The process continually repeated.

"What's this?" Zuko asked, picking up a sheet. He turned it upside down, then at ninety degrees. He wasn't sure, but whatever Sokka was planning seemed to involved several pulleys. "Some sort of... new invention?"

"The boomerang guy," Mai said, "has been trying to figure out how I style my hair. These are all his guesses about how I do it."

Sokka threw up his hands. "And none of them were even close to right!"

Zuko staaaaared at the schematics, then glanced aside at him before announcing, "Sokka, don't take this the wrong way, but you just lost the chance I'll ever name one of my kids after you."

He was taken aback. "Why would you name someone for me? I'm not dead!"

"Wow," said Mai, yawning. "Comparative cultural traditions are so interesting."

Sokka tut-tutted her. "That's just low-hanging fruit on the sarcasm tree."

"My dress is green," she said.

Zuko had to admit it was a good excuse.

"Your girlfriend," said Sokka, "won't tell me how she actually does it! All she does is chuckle when I explain one of my proposed methods, then go expressionless by the time I look up at her!"

Zuko arched an eyebrow. With only one left, it wasn't an impressive feat, "Why didn't you just ask me?"

Sokka gasped. "You know how the sticky bun hair balls work?"

"Sure." He grinned. "I've helped undo them a couple of tiiIIIIYYYMES!"

"Some things," said Mai, verging on treason against her Fire Lord and on giving Azula the big sister she never wanted, "are better left mysterious."

Wordlessly, Zuko nodded and backed away from the table.


	23. This Song Is Not a Rebel Song

**This Song Is Not a Rebel Song**

.

Three strangers made for a poor funeral.

Gyatso had last visited his friend's home several years ago, the last stop on a final world tour that culminated in his retirement to temple and taking a teacher's vow of chastity. The island's lush greenery had been so different from the chilly, mist-cloaked Patola Mountains of Gyatso's boyhood home. Now the place was a blasted, lifeless ruin.

The waterbender, Arrluk, rested on the ground, a whale bone walking cane balanced across knobby knees. While they waited for Sud to finish his excavation, there was no talking. Only the ocean lapping the shore and the dim, echoing curses of Sud as he struggled with the hot, fresh earth deep down at the bottom of his tunnel broke the comfortable silence.

It was when a sweaty, dirtied Sud returned to the surface bearing Roku's headpiece that Gyatso found he _couldn't_ talk. The lump in his throat blocked any comment.

"That's it, hmm?" asked Arrluk. "Isn't there anything you could save for poor Ta Min?"

Sud tossed a charred, misshapen box on the ground. "A flaming boulder hit their home dead on. That was the biggest piece left." He turned over the headpiece in his hands. "Everything not metal burned."

Gyatso knelt down beside the ruined box, recognizing it at once. He had whittled this pai-sho set for his friend as a wedding present... forty years ago?

Another lifetime, now.

The case's bronze latch was melted shut. Arrluk prodded the case with his cane's handle a few times, then gave the box an almighty whack. The fragile wood splinted into dozens of pieces. Gyatso nodded a silent thanks and began sifting.

"Just junk," said Sud. "He's dead and ash."

Arrluk sighed. "I never liked attending funerals for my students. I suppose I'll be going to more now."

"At least we won't be doing this again," said Sud. "Sixteen years until the next Avatar starts training, another ten or so if she's anything like Roku. That's a quarter century at least before Sozin is reined in. We'll all be dead by then."

"Assuming," said Arrluk, lip curling over yellowed teeth, "the Fire Lord doesn't try to murder the Air Nomad's Avatar as well."

"We don't know what happened that night," Gyatso cautioned, voice froggy. Among the ruined pai-sho set, he plucked out the few undamaged tiles for no reason at all. "And the next Avatar is a 'he' according to the nuns."

"Doesn't matter." Sud sealed the tunnel he'd dug. "The Fire Lord won't let the Avatar realize himself. He'll hound the boy across the world."

Gyatso stood up. Ash and soot sullied his knees. "Unless we help."

Arrluk frowned. "The Avatar is meant to find his _own_ destiny."

"He will," Gyatso promised. "But... we could see that he has safe places to learn, we could protect him until he can defend himself."

"Observe in secret," said Sud, warming to it. "Never interfere, for better or worse. Let the boy find his own path."

Arrluk mulled the idea. "That's... acceptable. But three old men can't watch over a whole world."

"Roku had other friends. We can start there." Gyatso opened his palm. On top of the pile of pai-sho pieces, its paint as pristine as the day he'd meticulously laid it down decades ago, was a white lotus tile. "What's death between friends? Nothing. Nothing at all."


	24. And That Father Lost, Lost His

**A/N:** _This story was written for _rianax_, __who wanted to know what would have happened if Ursa had killed Ozai instead of Azulon._

* * *

.

**...and That Father Lost, Lost His**

.

* * *

Bato opens the door for the Avatar.

Inside is warmth and the comforts of home, all parting gifts from Hakoda and his brothers. They had trusted he'd recover from his grievous wounds in time and so left pieces of themselves for companionship.

"I think the stewed sea prunes are done." He pours the boy a bowl, then soothes the Avatar's unvoiced worry. "There's no meat in it. The nuns here wouldn't tolerate that."

Air Nomads didn't partake of an animal's flesh. Bato remembers that strange truth from his boyhood schoolhouse lessons.

For the girl at the Avatar's side, who introduced herself as Oza, Bato fixes another serving. She accepts it wordlessly. As the bowl passes between them, he notes the extensive callouses on her hands. Their placement don't suggest a laborer's life. Waterbenders have soft hands. Earthbenders, even ones with a bad heritage like her gold eyes spoke of, have calloused knuckles. Her knuckles were clean. A weapon user, then. Knives maybe?

Both guests sample their stew. Bato stifles a frown at the Avatar gagging on his spoon. He's only a boy, true, but the girl traveling with him at least has the manners not to insult his hospitality. She manages three spoonfuls total before letting the hot bowl cool in her cupped palms.

Bato speaks as he eats. "When the perfume traders brought word of your return, it greatly heartened my recovery. Chin Village was a great victory." Twelve ships sunk, they said. Bato has never seen twelve Fire Nation warships sunk in his whole lifetime.

Something dark passes over the boy's face. "Yeah," he says flatly. "I was actually just trying to find Kyoshi Island's elephant koi when they arrested me."

Bato is taken aback. "Arrested you?"

"That," says the girl, "is a very long and stupid story. Zhao didn't give Chin nearly what it deserved."

The Avatar shoots Oza a sidelong glance. Bato decides to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "So where are you headed?"

"Oh, the North Pole." The Avatar pauses to scratch behind the ears of his flying lemur. The little creature purs. "I need to find a waterbending teacher. Do you know any good ones?"

"Ah. I cannot help you," Bato says with a shake of his head. "The Southern Water Tribe has had little dealings with the North." Which is putting it lightly. Their patrols had refused to let Hakoda's ships resupply in their ports. "However, I am sure they will be receptive to your needs."

The boy perks up. "You're from the Southern Water Tribe? Wow! I've been there! Do you know Katara?"

Bato blinks. "W...what?"

"Or Sokka? Do you know Sokka?"

His head spins at this revelation. Hakoda will never believe him. "Yes! How do you?"

"Katara was the one who broke me out of the iceberg I was frozen in," the Avatar explains, and Bato tries to let the sheer oddity of that explanation flow past him. "And Sokka... uh, banished me."

The Avatar bows from the seated position, discreetly pushing his bowl of sea prune stew as far off to the side as possible. "I'm really sorry for endangering your village. I shouldn't have gone on that ship. I didn't know about the war back then."

The offense isn't Bato's to forgive. He wasn't there, and he'd trust Hakoda's son to protect the village with a level head. Still...

"Sokka banished you? _You_?"

The bald boy shrugs.

"And the village supported treating the Avatar that way?" Had things changed that much? For the worse?

Bato's eyes drift over to the girl silently observing their exchange.

He's seen Oza's type all over the Earth Kingdom, broken children whose jagged pieces have been rearranged into something resembling an adult. Her golden eyes have been tracking Bato's every move since she walked into the room, but her face is impassive. He's glad for that emotionless. Her smile would be an unpleasant thing.

Bato never wants to see that look on Katara's and Sokka's faces, but it seems the spirits have decided otherwise.

"Oh," says the boy, "I never told them I was the Avatar. They just thought I was an airbender."

"It's not an easy connection to make," says Oza. "The Air Nomads have only been extinct for a _hundred years_, and everybody knows that airbenders could freeze themselves alive in ice."

The Avatar clears his throat. "I didn't want to make a thing out of it."

Staring down into her stew bowl, the girl idly stirs it, remarking, "That's a first."

It's clearly a baiting line. Bato doesn't need to have helped his widowed friend raise two children to read that much. Yet the boy doesn't rise to the charge, instead he continues to stroke his lemur with consistent serenity.

Bato looks between the two teenagers. The warmth of the room is now uncomfortable. "It must be quite a story, how you two got together. How does a young lady such as yourself come to travel with the Avatar?"

Oza says, "I broke him out of the Pohuai Stronghold."

That news sends a nasty jolt down Bato's back. He looks to the Avatar.

"It wasn't much of an accomplishment," says the boy. "She was already on the inside, you might say."

Her eyes narrow in warning. "Aang..."

"You were in a Fire Nation prison?" Bato asks, and even he isn't sure who the question is directed towards.

"For treason," the girl explains, Bato finds himself unsettled again. He glances at the Avatar for confirmation and finds nothing to doubt her sincereity. If the Avatar is traveling with someone from the Fire Nation, Bato decides he will have to trust the boy's judgement. The Fire Nation did, after all, owe him a greater debt of blood than anyone else in the world. "Princess Ursa killed my father."

Bato says, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Her eyes flash with deep pain. "It was years ago. And I doubt you'd have liked him. No one else cared back then. But I intend to repay the insult tenfold."

"What you want won't make you happy," the Avatar says, shaking his head. "After I found Gyatso's body, I destroyed the Southern Air Temple in grief. All that accomplished was wiping out all that was left of my home."

To which Oza snaps, "I'd be glad to wipe out _my_ home. The whole country could sink beneath the sea and I wouldn't shed a tear! Nobody cared when my father died. They were selfish, saying they did it out of love. So you know what? They can all go die in a fire!" And with that, the Fire Nation girl throws down her bowl and stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind herself.

Bato sits in awkward silence with the Avatar for several seconds before hazarding, "So... Katara and Sokka. They are well?"

"They're happy," the Avatar replies glumly. "Like family should be."


	25. Act of Contrition

**Act of Contrition**

.

* * *

The Earth King had come to revise His personal definition of 'surprise'. Biting down on a cherry pit once counted as surprising. No longer. Kuei now dealt in secret, century-long wars and treacherous advisors.

If someone told Him the former Grand Secretariat could bend metal, Kuel wasn't sure He could dismiss such accusations as fantasy after recent events. But Long Feng, out of his cell, kowtowing before Kuei's throne as a humble servant should? It hurt Him to realize _that_ was surprising.

"Your Majesty, I will accept whatever judgement you will bestow on me for this intrusion, but please hear me first! I come with news of an imminent threat against your life!"

Several Dai Li agents entered the throne room. At their mercy were three disheveled girls, all gagged. Despite their faces being wiped clean of make-up, the Earth King recognized them by their elaborate uniforms.

"Outrageous!" Kuei bolted to his feet. "The Kyoshi Warriors are friends of this throne and the Avatar. Guards! Free them and return Long Feng to his cell!"

As those soldiers loyal to Him approached Long Feng and the Dai Li agents, they met no resistence. That alone was why Kuei did not deafen Himself to what His former adviser said next.

"These are not the Kyoshi Warriors, sir!" Long Feng, eyes still fixed on the floor, swept one arm out towards the girls. "They are Fire Nation assassins."

"Preposterous!"

Any further explanation was delayed by the courtroom's doors bursting open. The Avatar's waterbending master sprinted inside.

"King Kuei, something terrible is going on! The Fire Nation has infiltrated the city. I just saw Prince Zuko and his-!" She froze at the sight of Long Feng. "What is _he_ doing here?"

Kuei's eyes widened. "Fire Nation... infiltration?"

"You see, sir?" said Long Feng. "With the Dai Li no longer protecting Ba Sing Se, Your enemies are drawing their knives."

"Let Suki and the others go!" Katara's hand fell to the waterskin on her hip. "Or else!"

Long Feng said, "These are not the Kyoshi Warriors. Look at their faces! Are _these_ your friends?"

The Water Tribe child's expression morphed from stern anger to shock. "...Azula?"

"_Princess_ Azula," Long Feng stressed, at last meeting Kuei's eyes. "Heir to the Fire Lord."

Doing His best not to stumble, Kuei sat back down on His throne.

"And you heard the girl," Long Feng said. "Prince Zuko is here as well. Who knows how many other Fire Nation agents are lurking around the palace right now?"

Kuei hoped no one say His gemmed fingers tremble. He had _trusted_ these girls with _Bosco_. "It... appears I have misjudged you again, Long Feng. I will remember this service at your trial."

The kowtowing man smiled. Kuei did not return the gesture. A cloud passed over Long Feng's eyes, a knowing look which elicited the slightest of nods from Kuei. Whatever the other man's motive, Kuei would not let Himself be surprised by Long Feng anymore.


	26. Winter's Valkyrie

_Written for clockworkchaos, who prompted me for a "Full Metal Bitch" style drabble where it was Katara and Sokka, not Toph, that had been aged up 10 years_.

* * *

.

**Winter's Valkyrie**

.

* * *

They leave her behind, at first.

The survivors return from battle covered in blood and burns. Katara does important work with her healer's hands, saves men's lives from death or debilitating injuries. She practices the other uses her waterbending has but Dad and Sokka refuse her utterly on the idea of putting that training to practical use. It isn't that she's a woman, they say, it's that her healing ability is irreplaceable. Fathers will live to see their families because of her. How could she justify risking that?

But nothing in war goes according to plan. One night a platoon of firebenders attacks their beachside camp, setting fire to their ships, hoping to press the Southern Water Tribe against the waves and destroy them. They don't count on Katara having the ocean at her disposal. She saves the ships while the sands run red with icewater mixed with blood.

Katara isn't left behind after that.

But she's still never quite one of them, either. While the other warriors talk around the campfire about their absent families or memories of home, she stays silent. Katara misses the beautiful desolation of the South Pole, sure, but she comes to realize a part of her would be perfectly fine with never going back. It's not that she loves war. She hates it, _loathes it_ in the way only a battlefield healer can. But Sokka and Dad are with her, and wherever her family is... that's home.

Katara has no one waiting for her back at the South Pole.

Even accepting the attrition due to the raids, finding a husband had been harder than Katara had ever expected. Not that she'd given it much thought. Katara had just assumed she'd find the right man, that she'd just look at him and _know_ he was the One.

Being a chieftain's daughter probably wouldn't have hurt either, she once supposed, considering how many girls had courted Sokka. Yet no parents wanted Katara as their daughter-in-law. People, she eventually learned, steered their sons clear of her.

Dad might have been important but Katara had a single, overwhelming mark against her: she was a waterbender.

Any children she bore would have a fair chance of inheriting her gift, which made whatever family and village she married into a potential target for Fire Nation raids. Without any mastery of her waterbending she didn't offer any 'benefits' for the danger involved in a marriage match, as Gran-Gran had bluntly put it.

While she had gone unwed even at twenty-four, Sokka had fathered twin daughters with his wife Corazon when they were still both seventeen. While the spirits had give them easy births, they had also made the girls waterbenders. Katara sometimes wondered what Sokka and her sister-in-law thought about their children's future, but they had never broached the subject so she respected that silence.

Yet sometimes, in her quiet moments, a tiny voice nagged at Katara that the only reason Dad had allowed to come to war was not to put her healing hands to use, but so his granddaughters would potentially have an _experienced_ waterbender to teach them.


	27. Ungoodthinker

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**UNGOODTHINKER**

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* * *

The war was over, the government proclaimed, but it wasn't the ending that anyone in the colonies had expected.

Ba Sing Se had fallen to a multinational force supposedly led by _General Iroh_ and Omashu's Mad King. The Fire Nation's sprawling occupation army, filled with conscripts from every corner of the empire, had been captured as prisoners of war.

Prince Zuko had defeated his sister in agni kai and won the throne. He'd pledged to restore the Fire Nation's honor and, with the Avatar's help, user in a new era of love and peace.

Fire Lord Ozai, they said, had declared himself the 'Phoenix King' and tried to burn down the entire Earth Kingdom. The Avatar had spared his life, somehow taking his firebending away.

Taking Ursa's breath away was more like what it did, but that was why the biggest lies were the best. You could hardly believe anyone would be so brazen a liar, so your mind began to unwilling wonder if the lie might actually be the truth.

But she hadn't survived in the royal court without appreciating how history could be re-written. Keeping two contrary facts in one's head was a necessity in the Fire Nation's upper echelon. The Air Nation and the Air Nomads. The savage sky horde and the pacifistic monks. Ennobling the lesser races by raping and pillaging their lands. Her own grandfather, worshipped by the Fire Sages in one breath and damned as a traitor in the next.

The government was already at work supporting its new master. Now it was _Azula_ alone who had masterminded the conquest of Ba Sing Se, but even that triumph had apparently been possible only with the aid of Earth Kingdom traitors. Now it was _Azula_ who had almost succeeded in killing the Avatar. Fire Lord Zuko, they said, hadn't been involved in the coup's planning at all. He'd just been an innocent refugee seeking shelter in the capital city of his country's greatest enemy.

Every success that Prince Zuko had claimed under Fire Lord Ozai was now, according to the new government, a crime committed by Princess Azula.

Azula, who wasn't chained in some prison but, in an unfathomable display of compassion by Fire Lord Zuko, had instead been committed to a mental hospital after going insane in the last days of the war.

Ursa laughed not to cry.

It was like her village. Ilah's Hearth was nestled deep in the bosom of the Fire Nation colonies. Ursa had never visited it before Ozai had secreted her away there under house arrest, but she hadn't needed to. Its history was laid out for anyone to see: immaculately terraced rice patties farmed by peasants garbed in crimson shades. Fire folk working land that could only have been sculpted over countless generations by earthbenders that were nowhere to be seen.

Ursa knew in her bones how the Fire Nation worked. The awful truth of what had happened at the war's end was just as plain to see if you bothered looking.

Knowing it had been his only way to regain his position as Crown Prince following his exile for cowardliness, Zuko had scoured the world for the Avatar. Then, against all odds, Zuko had found and killed the last airbender in Ba Sing Se.

Or so everyone had thought, at least. Zuko must have believed he'd succeeded for some time. Ursa wondered when it was that the truth had come out. Not until the end, she suspected. Her husband would never have tolerated such a revelation.

Ursa could see how it must have happened: the Avatar's return exposed as his invasion force was shattered on the Day of Black Sun. Their hope of cutting off the snake's head was gone, just as was any hope of Zuko in maintaining his position as Crown Prince. His honor hadn't been restored if the Avatar still lived. So Zuko had fled the capital. He'd tracked down the Avatar again but, knowing that Ozai would never accept him back, had instead cut a deal.

In exchange for helping the Avatar master firebending and win the war, he would be crowned Fire Lord. Conquest from above. Why fight remnant armies and endless successors to the throne when you could put your own puppet in charge?

And Azula... her little girl... would only be remembered by history as a madwoman. Because what better way to fracture your opposition while securing your own power base then by painting the person best suited to replacing you as a crazy person?

Ursa remembered her son being so confused about why his father had paid all his attention to Azula instead of him. Even now, her heart clenched at the memory of Zuko's frustrated tears. She had loved him so much, would have done anything to take that pain away, to protect him. She had committed the highest treason possible to save her son from his father's hunger for power.

And now...

Now Zuko had destroyed his own family in order to steal the throne from his father's favored heir.

Ursa had given birth to another Ozai.

Her son was a _monster_.


	28. Seeing Toph

_**A/N: **Inspired by a discussion on the Avatar Spirit forum about what a non-blind Toph would be like. What would her personality be like if her parents hadn't "handled" her for years? What sort of earthbender would she? Credit to clockworkchaos for the concept of using earthbending to paint, which he explored in his fic 'Life Bound'. _

* * *

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**Seeing Toph**

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* * *

Toph set up the twin field easels with the ease of a lifelong painter. The contraptions were specially built for her short stature, a gift from her father on the occasion of her tenth birthday. Normally a maid carried them for her around the hills of Gaoling. Today she was carrying her own weight, so to speak, and she wondered how she'd feel later. Sore arms were such a commoner's distress.

Still, her aches made possible some glories. The way the morning sun warmed the limestone canyon made the rock come alive before her jade eyes. Muddy-colored, craggy stone transformed into a vibrant landscape of yellows and brown. Nothing like it back home in Gaoling, and a far more immediate scene than the vast horizons she saw atop Appa's saddle. It made Toph want to sit down and capture the sight right away, but her duties and obligations came first. She was a sifu now, after all, and a proper lady besides.

Next came out the paints from her kit. They were the true prize among her tools. Dozens upon dozens of little jars of ground up earth element pigments from the farthest corners of the continent: Ba Sing Se Amber, Omashu Rust, Kyoshi Seawater, Hashima Coal Grey, Loulan Rot Green, and even Royal Glowcrystal harvested from the catacombs beneath the Earth King's palace.

Her precious purple shades, made from coral indigenous to the Northern Water Tribe's polar waters, she left in her kit. They were by far the most expensive of her pigments, as the North had closed itself off for decades. Dye makers and artists alike hoarded what was left of the available coral stock, and Toph was no different.

Most painters would kill for access to such an array of wondrous shades and hues. Today Toph contented herself with only the local Gaoling pigments. No need to waste the good stuff on her student's amateur technique.

After mixing some basic pigments and oils together, Toph put the palette in Aang's hand.

"The first lesson of earthbending," she said, "is that you have to mean to earthbend. You do not ask a rock to move. You move it. Period. So you need to know exactly what you are planning to doing and then have no hesitation."

"And that's why we're painting?"

"Yes. Painting is the highest possible art form achievable by an earthbender. You cannot find funny quirks or happy accidents in your paintbrush." Toph herself didn't use a paintbrush. "You lay down every speck of color on canvas by your own choice. And you cannot take back the paint once you've laid it down. Every 'stroke' must be made decisively, with an eye to how it will affect the bigger picture."

"I see," Aang said sagely. "So I'm learning how to paint my enemies to death."

Toph shot him her most sincere, approving smile. Insolence through manners was another high art form in which she was well-versed. "Avatar, painting the human form will not just give you a new appreciation for the body, it will teach you valuable skills. Knowing at a glance the difference between tension in the shoulders from nervousness and from a preparation to attack may just one day save your life."

"I know that, Sifu Toph, but why does my nude model have to be _Sokka_?"

"Hey!" snapped the Water Tribe boy from his perch atop a nearby boulder, legs crossed and hands covering his lap. "I'm not happy about it either."

Toph emitted the barest of sighs. Folding her hands patiently, she explained, "Because Katara would never agree to model for us, and more importantly Sokka would never agree to let Katara model for us."

"Darn skippy I wouldn't!"

"What about you?" Aang asked her.

"I'm your sifu. I have to monitor you and correct your technique if necessary. Also, I'm a noblewoman." She primped her mountain of piled hair. "The only man lucky enough to see what's under this dress will be my husband. Thank goodness Sokka's a peasant, huh?"

To which Sokka replied, "Oh, you're a real sweetheart."

"Aang, if seeing another man naked makes you feel uncomfortable, I'm sure we can scrounge up some pretty village girl someplace that would jump at the chance to model for the Avatar."

Aang blushed the loveliest shade of crimson. Toph wished she had something in her kit that could replicate it. "N-no thanks. I grew up in a temple full of monks. Male nudity isn't really a big deal for me. It's more that it's _Sokka_."

"HEY!" The Water Tribe boy stood up and crossed his arms. "I'll have you know I am a _fine_ specimen of manhood."

Now Toph felt herself blushing. _I really should look away_, she thought to herself. _Any second now, I'll do just that_.

She didn't.

"Hey, Sokka," the Avatar said, "it's pretty cold out, isn't it?"

"Pfff. Maybe for you weaklings, but the Water Tribe doesn't let a little thing-" Toph choked "-like weather bother us, especially when it's above freezing."

"If you say so." Aang brandished a dab of earthbent paint in the air before the blank canvas. "Now hold that pose. This bit shouldn't take too long."

. . .

"A bloody nose? Oh no, Toph!" said Katara. "Don't tell me Sokka punched you too!"

"He didn't."


	29. The Two Faces of Tomorrow

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**The Two Faces of Tomorrow**

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* * *

The hut's hearth was a sweltering relief to the frigid air outside. Even with the days growing longer as the Midnight Sun of winter approached, the late autumn had thrown up one last bad storm. Deathly winds whipped over the hut's tanned lion-seal hides. Kya knew it would be the height of foolishness to go outside, especially considering the comforts found inside.

Underneath their furs, Kya lazed with husband in a mutual afterglow. Hakoda pressed himself against her thigh and ran one hand over her swollen belly. She wasn't in any hurry to start things again, especially since they had all the time in the world to indulge themselves with the storm shutting down the village.

As he played with her belly button, Hakoda asked her, "Have you thought about names yet?"

"Have you?"

"I'm still trying to get used to the idea of being a father."

She chuckled. "Better get used to it. They way our kid's kicking, it won't be long now."

Hakoda leaned over and kissed her. They lost themselves for a time. When they broke their embrace, Kya took both her husband's hands and placed them on the swell of her unborn child.

She asked, "How about you?"

"Me?"

"Any suggestions, daddy-to-be?"

Hakoda exhaled. "I've always like the sound of Qigip. For a boy. And maybe Hama for a girl. Mother was going to name me that if I was a girl, you know."

"Mmm... I don't know if I could deal with a little girl Hakoda running around. Two people with your sense of humor?"

He sat up. "What's wrong with my sense of humor?"

"I'm teasing." She smiled. "I find you _very_ funny."

Mollified, he settled down next to her. "Good." One of his hands found her breast. He started lightly kneading the nipple with his calloused fingers. Kya sighed in pleasure. "A warrior's wit is his most devastating weapon."

Outside, the wind howled.

"...If it's a boy," she said, "maybe 'Sokka'?" Hakoda momentarily sobered at the mention of his father. The pain passed away from his eyes and he nodded in consent. "If it's a girl, Sonna." They were the masculine and feminine forms of her father-in-law's name.

"Sokka and Sonna," he said, testing their flavor on his tongue. "Good names."

Kya gazed at her belly and the promise it held. The thought of raising a child, of being responsible for a little life, was alternating terrifying and thrilling. The best of her and her husband, combined in a new person. She would be 'Mom' from the day of her baby's birth, on.

Privately, in a secret place in her heart that she would never share with Hakoda or anyone else, Kya held a fear for what life would be like for a son. Raising a strong warrior and hunter was any woman's dream, and you couldn't ask for a better role model than her husband, but... the war...

To be a woman of the Southern Water Tribe was to hold no illusions. Kya most admired that in Hakoda's mother, Kanna. She was an utterly practical woman, the kind Kanna herself strived to be. Those of her mother-in-law's generation had to be strong with the Fire Nation's slaughter and the ensuing diaspora across the arctic continent. Idealism wouldn't bring back their people's stolen waterbenders, or raise up the walls of the lost Great City.

The war was over. The Fire Nation had won. Kya couldn't fathom even the Avatar stopping them, if such a creature had ever existed outside of fairytales.

To openly admit as much would be the final defeat, and Kya couldn't do that to either her people or her husband. But she didn't want to lose her baby to the war, and Kya stood a good chance of that if she gave birth to a boy. Because the few warriors they had left _fought_ and the endless waves of Fire Nation soldiers _killed_.

Better that her baby be a girl, one she could raise to be unbreakable like its grandmother. Kya would teach Sonna how to sew and cook and care for others. She would teach her daughter all the little tricks for spicing seal jerky and mending split seams. And if, in some horrible nightmare, her husband and the rest of the men were called off to war in foreign lands, her baby Sonna would be safe here at home. Kya would grow old and grey, never having to know the all-too-common pain of outliving her own children.

Hakoda turned out to be thinking along similar, if more optimistic, lines. "Do you think it's too early to forge him a boomerang?"

"Just a little."

"Oh." He gently stroked her breast. "Any ideas what we should name our second child?"

She laughed. "Now you're _really_ getting ahead of yourself."

"You're right. We should practice first before talking about names."

Kya made a _ttch_ sound in her throat. "And people say you have a bad sense of humor."

"Who was joking?"


	30. Longshot and Jet

**Longshot and Jet**

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* * *

They'd all lost people before. That didn't make it any easier.

It wasn't as if Longshot never thought of life before the Freedom Fighters. He simply tried not to dwell unnecessarily. Along with the bow, his father had taught him that a man must accept his own life, the bountiful harvests and the famines alike. Longshot hoped his friends would one day learn that lesson by the example he set.

Jet was different. He could grow distant around the campfire, ears deaf to his team's banter but echoing with the heady whoops and hurrahs of the Rough Rhinos. What made Jet a leader was the drive those memories created. Jet could never let go and still be Jet.

That's why Longshot stayed up with him the night Sneers was killed.

Jet made himself seen after the hasty funeral, talking and comforting the younger orphans. He never cried himself, not one tear, but everyone who knew him - really knew him - could watch wear him thin. A nod from Longshot to his fellow Freedom Fighters had them swooping in, sharing their grief with the kids while Jet made an excuse to go check the traps.

Longshot followed him out of camp.

Jet actually did check the traps, and it was only after a half hour of silent fussing with reseting the snares that his leader finally broke the silence between them. "I keep running over it," Jet said quietly, "trying to figure out what I did wrong."

Longshot thought of the unsprung trap whose bait had been snatched away. He wondered if it had been deftness of paw or...

"No." Jet shook his head. "It can't just have been luck. It can't. We've done hundred of ambushes."

It'd been years since Longshot's hands had shaken when he'd put down his bow. He'd never seen Jet's hands shake. Not even at the beginning.

Jet continued, "We're the Freedom Fighters. If luck mattered we'd all be dead a dozen times over by now. So I had to have done something wrong. Maybe... maybe I..."

Jet continued talking aloud with himself, gumming on a wheat stalk, comfortable enough to be uncertain and second-guessing in Longshot's presence.

Since the Avatar had foiled their dam busting, the Fire Nation had increased its patrols. No one talked about it openly but they all knew it wasn't going to be too long before the enemy found their treetop base. Jet had even taken to ordering them off from some easy pickings. With the Fire Nation paying them special attention, too many points clustered around one spot on the map would give them away sooner rather than later.

Earlier that morning, they had hit their first patrol in weeks. Their medical supplies were getting low and they need the fresh bandages and salves that you found in any Fire Nation squad's medical kit.

Longshot had been watching from behind a nocked arrow as the soldiers meandered up the road. Like the others, he'd stuffed snow into his mouth to prevent puffs of breath from giving away his position. With the leaves fallen there was little point hiding in the trees, so they'd all been lying in snow banks or crouching behind tree trunks. All standard for a wintertime action. He remembered Sneers making the bird call that signaled everyone should attack, and before the whistling had finished Longshot's first arrow was buried itself in the squad leader's throat. He'd nocked the next arrow, let it fly, watched his second target fall. Nocked the second, let it fly, watched that soldier dodge. Nocked the third and suddenly Sneers was _shrieking_.

It had been a throwing knife of all things. The kind anyone might carry in their boot. Nothing special, except for the person it had hit.

Jet rubbed his face, remembering that fact too. "Sneers was too good to make a mistake. He never missed up. Never. Why did I pick that bend for the ambush? I don't... there _had_ to be a reason!"

Longshot laid his hands on Jet's shoulders and turned his leader to face him. The muscles under Longshot's hands were cords of steel. The faint trembling there passed away as if it had never existed.

Jet bowed his head. "Those bastards," he whispered, full of anger and self-loathing. "Those bastards killed Sneers."

"You never failed him," Longshot said.

Jet shuddered. His grasped Longshot's arms, and they held each other in the silent wintery forest, supporting one another.


	31. Dangerous Ladies

**A/N: **This drabble is a sequel to my one-shot fic _The Siege of the South, _written as a meme fill for Omoni. The basic premise of 'Siege' is that Aang is woken up decades early by a young Hama. Now we meet the baddies who would become Team Avatar's reoccurring nemesis in that AU...

* * *

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**Dangerous Ladies**

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* * *

In the southern Earth Kingdom, on a long stretch of empty road, two pairs of young women faced off. It would be a meeting that defined all their lives for years to come, an encounter that would be told and retold in song.

Hama didn't know any of that, however. She was merely concerned she'd mistakenly woken up in some crazy, mixed-up world designed to piss her off. Because there was no freaking way someone should be able to block a water whip with a war fan.

"They aren't Kyoshi Warriors!" Kanna said of their attackers.

Hama was taken aback. "What?"

"They're those bandits from Omashu!"

"Your reaction time is delayed a tenth of second from average," remarked the fake Kyoshi Warrior, casually dodging an icicle aimed at her center of mass. "Are you feeling tired?" she asked Hama. "Time o' the month?"

"_Excuse me_?"

"I'm disappointed," said the second Kyoshi Warrior. "I'd say we over-planned for this fight, even with one of them not being a boring bender." She caught Kanna's thrown boomerang in one-hand, then brought it close to study. "What a lovely example of aerodynamics."

"Now, now, dear sister," said Hama's Kyoshi Warrior, who'd now closed half the distance between them. "Better to be prepared than not, especially dealing with prey as dangerous as the Avatar."

Hama scowled. "You'll _never_ touch Aang!"

The smile she received in reply went beyond confident. It was pure condescension, the same smug look Hama had always pictured on that asshole Pakku's face from Kanna's stories. "Really? Who's going to make sure of that? You and your nearly empty water-skins?"

Hama stiffened, suddenly conscious of how light the three water-skins strapped to her back had gotten. _Fucking dry land!_

Kanna drew her machette. "Who are you people?"

"Not Kyoshi Warriors," Hama agreed, trying to remember how far down the road that stream had been. _Too far._ She studied her opponents with a close eye. "Their fighting style's all wrong. Kinda reminds me of airbending."

"Too true," they chorused. "You've seen through our cunning disguise."

"I'm Li," said Hama's opponent.

"I'm Lo," said Kanna's opponent.

"Special Advisors to the War Ministry," they chorused. "Anti-Avatar Division."

Lo smiled. "We're here to capture the Avatar-"

"-and to kick some Water Tribe ass." Lo cracked her knuckles. "And it looks like the Avatar isn't here. What a shame."

"Yes," they chorused. "Such a shame."


	32. 31 Sequels

**Summary: **_A series of follow-ups to the thirty-one drabbles so far posted in this archive, in celebration of the one year anniversary _The Fun and Perky Warrior's Wolf Tail_. Some are longer than others, but there's a little something for every drabble I've yet published._

* * *

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**31 Sequels**

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* * *

**01. **_**Not Fade Away**_**; or, the one where the Avatar Spirit bit it. **

A triumphant grin stretched across the Phoenix King's face. It only grew wider as he advanced upon the child cowering on the scorched ground before him. "You have no place in _my_ world, 'Avatar'! The memory of you does not even deserve to exist! Now I will finished what my daughter started. PREPARE TO DIE!"

The last airbender - for he was nothing more - looked as if he was about to cry. "I'm sorry."

"Yesssss! Beg for mercy!"

"No," the former Avatar said, cutting off Ozai. "I'm sorry because I wasn't strong enough to save you."

Ozai bellowed with laughter. "Save me? From what? _You, _boy?"

The boy pointed over Ozai's shoulder. "From my friends."

"Like I'm going to fall for that tri-" A great shadow passed over him, silencing Ozai. Turning slowly, his eyes widened in shock at the sight of one of his mighty airships diving out of the sky, its envelope eclipsing the light of Sozin's Comet as the earthgrazer hung on the horizon. The airship was barreling down on Ozai. "What."

"Yoink!"

The Phoenix King caught only a glimpse of a tiny earthbender girl pulling the last airbender down into the ground; too late to do more than ineffectually blast the resealed hole with lightning. This proved to be a mistake. It gave the underground earthbender enough time to encase Ozai's legs in thick, unbreakable slabs of rock.

"No!" He beat against the rock with burning fists, trying to free himself. "NNNOOOOOOO-"

And then the airship found its target.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**02. **_**The Natural Daughter of Somebody**_**; or, the one where Zuko couldn't keep his fly zipped.**

Midori always loved the circus. It wasn't logical, but going there made her feel closer to her dead father. Since Uncle Mushi's stroke two springs ago, he hadn't been well enough to travel in from Ba Sing Se. Now the only connection Midori had to her dead father was through attending the circuses that passed through Taku on their circuits of the continent.

This season the Three Nations circus was touring; a goodwill show that Midori guessed was supposed to help mend ties between the Fire Nation and their old enemies. Midori thought it was a stupid plan but it made for good entertainment. They had all sorts of famous performers under one tent. If anyone had known her father Lee, who had been a circus juggler, surely one of those old hands would.

For instance, there was a famous wartime acrobat on a comeback tour. Midori shook down one of the carnies for information about Madam Ty Lee's likes and dislikes, then blew her allowance on a bouquet of red-veined soot irises.

If you were going to sweet-talk somebody, you had to do it _right_. Mom and Uncle Mushi might not have approved but... no one had to know.

Midori subdued her own nervousness and put on her best fake smile. She stepped into the backstage tent, black flowers in hand. "Madam Ty Lee, that was an exquisite performance! I can't wait to see how you'll top yourself tomorrow."

The middle-aged acrobat froze at her vanity mirror. Her grey eyes went wide. "A-Azula!"

"Er, who?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**03. **_**When You've Bowed, You Leave the Crowd**_**; or, the one where Toph told Death to piss off.**

When they queued up to buy tickets for the Omashu Express, sixteen year old Seronok hit upon the first major struggle of her pilgrimage: explaining to a nigh-immortal earthbender how money worked nowadays.

Toph turned over the paper bills in her marble-like hands. "People seriously accept this junk as money?"

"Um, yes."

"Can't I just use gold instead?"

"Nobody uses gold anymore."

"Riiiight. Because paper is SO rare."

"It's fiat currency."

"I don't know what that means."

"Our money's worth whatever the government says it's worth."

"...bullshit."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**04. **_**Ask Her to Show Off Her New Clothes**_**; or, the one where the universe objects to Azula's badass power plays.**

"Now comes the part where I double-cross you." Long Feng smirked. "Dai Li, arrest the Fire Nation Princess."

They did so.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**05.**** _The Face Death Forgot_; or, the one where Kyoshi lived for a damn long time.**

June had never gotten drunk with a holy man before, but it didn't suck.

Ba Sing Se's fall brought a small but steady trickle of refugees, mostly of the intellectual sort that wouldn't have lasted long under Fire Nation rule. Desperate people meant more business for June, so that was nice.

Mister Earth Sage here was one such customer, although June had already forgotten his name. He had hired June to find a fellow sage, one June eventually tracked down to a shallow roadside grave. Now Mister Earth Sage was drowning his grief in cheap liquor. June was more than happy to commiserate with him on the man's coin.

She said, "There's worse ways to die than doing it before you grow old." June believed that down to her bones. Live fast, die young, and enjoy yourself until you go.

"Ev'ry one's dying these days," the Earth Sage slurred. "If it's not your friend it's the Avatar."

June nodded non-commitally. "Is it true what the Fire Nation says? That the Avatar's _dead_ dead?"

A slow, deep nod. "If the boy died in the Avatar State, yeah, the Avatar's dead." Mister Earth Sage downed another shot. "At least the boy's not."

"Huh?"

"Con...Conservation of Spirit." June signaled the bartender for another round. The Earth Sage took the gesture as a request to elaborate his point. "There's the _Avatar_, y'see, and then there's the _Avatar Spirit_."

"Same difference."

"No no no no no. It's like... all the Avatars live forever, miss, but only the _Avatar_ part of them. Like, uh, wax impressions. Because the Avatar Spirit is on a... a whatzit..." He snapped his fingers. "A journey! To become human. So it keeps the memory of them, but just the memory. Their mortal spirits re-*_**hic**_*-incarnate like normal people."

June, out of lifelong habit, idly traced a fan-shaped outline on her beer tankard's condensation. "Wild."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**06. **_**The Other Runaway Avatar**_**; or, the one where Roku finds his (after)life sucks.**

Korra skipped from stone to stone across the brackish pond. Overhead, fecund islands floated in the Spirit World's eternally sunset-tinged sky. "So all my past lives are here?"

"Yes," said Aang.

"Cool. What are they like?"

"Vengeful assholes, mostly."

Korra tripped and fell face-first into the water.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**07. **_**Second Best Revenge**_**; or, the one where Azula tucks her daughter in at night.**

"Again."

The thirteen year old moved through the motions of the kata. Orange fire blossomed this way and that. Finally, the girl jabbed two fingers upwards at the dark, storm-filled sky and let loose a titanic explosion of lightning. Even after three straight hours of outside practice in a thunderstorm, she wasn't out of breath.

Azula walked over to her daughter, brushed aside a single stray hair on her forehead that had fallen out of place... and planted a kiss there. "Perfect."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**08. **_**The Fanfiction of Wan Shi Tong**_**; or, the one where the owl rides the fail whale.**

_Wan Shi Tong unhooked Zei's sweat-soaked tunic button-by-button with his gleaming talon, revealing the toned, sun-kissed flesh hidden beneath the tight cotton. "Trespassers must be punished," the Knowledge Spirit whispered huskily. "Severely."_

"Damn it, Koh! Get away from my writing table!"

"He he he."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**09. **_**First Rumblings**_**; or, a movieverse fic where the Bei Fongs live in Ba Sing Se.**

Sweepy whistled happily to himself as he finished his nighttime round of cleaning the floors of the Dai Li's Headquarters. He took out a small rag and wiped the sweat from his brow. "There! All done."

It was then that the building's outer wall exploded in a titanic display of earthbending, throwing up a wave of concrete dust that washed over the newly cleaned hallway, and a roaring sky-bison ploughed through the new hole. Four teens and one haggard university professor leapt off Appa's saddle and sprinted past the stock-still janitor, who was now coated from head to toe in dust.

Aang pointed with his staff towards the end of the hallway. "That one's Long Feng's office!"

Sokka kicked the door in.

No one was inside, but the office was much as it had been the last time they visited it. A roaring fireplace filled with green flames cast the office in ominous tones. Papers, scrolls, books and maps were everywhere: piled on the Grand Secretariat's desk, stuff into the book shelves, even forming towers on the little antique tables sprinkled throughout the room. Despite overflowing with such dry material, it was all very orderly.

"He put the eclipse calculations into a black folder," Professor Zei, department chair of astronomy at Ba Sing Se University said. "I'm sure of it."

Aang nodded. "Everyone, split up and look for it."

As they all started flipping through the various mounds of papers, Toph edged over to Sokka. "How can I help?"

"Read through the stack over by the door, 'kay?"

"...I'll just stand in the corner quietly."

Sokka rolled his eyes. "Fine! Be lazy!"

A minute or so later, Katara bolted upright.

"Did you find it?" Sokka asked.

"No," she said, face pale. "It's a letter from Dad."

"What!" Sokka took the letter from his sister and quickly read it. He cursed loudly. "It's an intelligence report, from the Water Tribe to the Earth Kingdom about the Fire Navy. Dad and the rest of the men are stationed at some place called Chameleon Bay. They've been there for months! It's not even a day's flight from here!"

Katara was incensed. "Long Feng's been hiding Dad from us the whole time?"

"Guys," said Aang, scanning through a small pile of scrolls on Long Feng's desk, "it gets worse. These are about _us._ Our likes, dislikes, relationships, favorite foods, _shoe sizes_! It goes on and on..."

"Found it!" Sokka snatched a black folder previous hidden under some papers on Long Feng's desk. He paged through the sheets inside, smiling. "It's all here! The Day of Black Sun calculations!" Incriminating evidence in hand, he fist-pumped the air. "Boo-yah! Invasion's back on track!"

"Congratulations."

Team Avatar spun around. Impassive face lit up by jade flames, Long Feng stood in the doorway to his office. Dai Li agents flanked him on either side, their faces hidden in shadows cast by their trademark hats. Aang and his friends readied themselves for another battle but the Grand Secretariat simply held his hands behind his back. "I'm going to give you one last chance - leave Ba Sing Se in peace and never return. I'll consider us even."

"No," Aang shot back. "We'll never cut a deal with a thug like you."

Long Feng chuckled. "A thug am I, eh? So you've been talking to Lao Bei Fong." He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. "I thought you had better taste in friends, Avatar."

"What's so bad about Toph's Dad? He wants to beat the Fire Lord and restore peace to Ba Sing Se!"

"You think Bei Fong cares about this city? _He_ was the one who had that incompetent General Sung appointed as Commander of the Outer Wall. All because Sung had the right parents, went to school with the right people." He sneered. "A general with half a brain could have figured out that slurry trick of yours."

"Hey!" Sokka said. "It was a _little_ more complicated than stopping up the drain."

Long Feng stalked into his office, began pacing back and forth in front of the group of teens. "The nobility has led the Earth Kingdom to ruin! Who's going to lead us back from the brink? The Earth King? He'd rather whittle away his days playing with his pet bear. _No_. The Earth Kingdom needs _real_ leadership, the kind that can only come from men who built themselves up from nothing. Men like me!"

Aang was aghast. "You'd have your own people live in fear of being stolen off the street? Brainwashed? _Worse_?"

"The walls of Ba Sing Se are impenetrable when guarded by the right men. The Fire Nation can't enter by force, even with the power of Sozin's Comet backing them. They couldn't do it a century ago! Our only defeat can come from within! Thus order and harmony _must_ be maintained."

Professor Zei clenched his fists. "You warped my mind! And what you must do to make the Joo Dees... nothing justifies that!"

Long Feng gave a low, short laugh. "The Dai Li's control goes far beyond mere brainwashing." A glance over his shoulder wordlessly summoned one of the Dai Li agents standing in the doorway. He walked up to Long Feng's side and removed his conical hat.

"Evening, Bandit," said Xin Fu.

Toph and Aang gasped.

"Who is he?" Katara asked.

"The earthbender that attacked us!" said Aang.

Toph added, "And he runs the Earth Rumbles."

"No," Long Feng said. "_**I **_run the Earth Rumbles. Captain Xin Fu merely oversees the operation. You see, nothing happens in this city without my command. That's why I had Xin Fu and his gladiators attack you at that party, Avatar. I knew the Blind Bandit was Lao Bei Fong's daughter all along. She was the perfect pawn to become your earthbending teacher. Her father would never dare move against me while she was staying at your house under _my_ protection. But knowing her insolent personality, I realized Lady Bei Fong would need a little... push... to find common ground with you."

Aang scowled. "So you attacked us!"

"You were never in any _real_ danger. You never have been, not until now." The other Dai Li agent stepped clear of the doorway. "Under my careful watch, you found an earthbending prodigy to teach you and an astronomer who helped you figure out the ideal time to attack the Fire Lord. You can leave Ba Sing Se now, safe in the knowledge that you can end this war without uselessly sacrificing other people's lives. There's no need to involve the Earth Army, not when they're needed on the Walls here. Why, I'll even promise that no harm will come to Lady Bei Fong's father.

"Or don't go." He shrugged. "Maybe some people, like you, Avatar, or like Lady Bei Fong over there, are simply _born to rule. _But just remember - doing the right thing has consequences, sometimes unhappy ones. Are you prepared to pay that price?"

Aang stared back at Long Feng... and then turned to Sokka. He took the eclipse calculations from his friend, tucked them under his arm, and marched out of the office. His friends followed suit. The Dai Li made no move to stop them.

Long Feng snorted in derision. "Fine. We'll do this the hard way."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**10. **_**All Aboard the Good Crackship Pianzula**_**; or, the one where Piandao obsesses about cherries.**

Azula ripped off his belt and pulled down his pants. "We'll keep doing this until I'm perfect at it. Got it, sifu?"

_I'm going to hell, _Piandao decided... but realized he didn't much care.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**11. **_**Hahn and Death**_**; or, the one that was written with apologies to Neil Gaiman. **

"I had him first," said Death. "Get your own crossover."

"MY FANDOM'S BIGGER," said the other Death.

"I doubt that."

"IT HAS LESS FAT CHICKS."

"I_ very much_ doubt that."

Hahn edged away. "I'm just gonna go sit over there."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**12. **_**It's a Long, Long Way to Ba Sing Se**_**; or, the one where Lu Ten lives to genocide Ba Sing Se.**

June warily eyed the two old men as soon as they walked into the tavern house. They had trouble tattooed on their faces, which was saying something in this day and age. The bounty hunter downed another shot, strengthening herself against some family begging her to sneak into Ba Sing Se to retrieve a missing family member. June would tell them what she always did - the only Kingdomers who came out of Ba Sing Se were dead, and they travelled by smokestack. There would be tears and rage, but June would hold firm.

She'd rather eat her left arm then go back to Ba Sing Se. Once was enough.

The old men made a beeline for her. One was a real grandfatherly type; bony, leaning on a walking stick, and sporting a long white beard. He didn't resemble the pale skinned man at his side. June had a good eye for shared family traits, curves of cheekbones and such, and these men didn't have it. The younger of the pair had a haunted look in his eyes the utterly serene grandfather lacked.

"Hello," the white-beard said. He pulled out a chair at June's table. "I understand that you have befriended a shirshu. Quite a rare accomplishment."

June's lips quirked at that phrasing. "Yeah. Nyla and me go waaaay back."

"Marvelous creatures, shirshus. They have one foot in the Spirit World."

"Paw?" mused the younger of the pair.

The white-beard mulled that. "Snout, perhaps."

June leaned back. "Can we get on with it, gramps?"

"Yes, yes. What my friend and I require is your services."

"Money first," she replied. "Half up front, half on delivery."

White-beard offered her his walking stick. June arched an eyebrow at the pathetic offer, then nearly jumped twice her height into the air when the stick snapped open, deploying two quarter-circles of wood painted bright orange. He said, "Air Nomad relics go for a high price among certain circles, pristine gliders moreso."

He retracted the glider's wings, then handed over the staff. June eyed the antique she now held. "Who exactly are you looking for? Because if they're in Ba Sing Se, I don't go-"

"He's not in Ba Sing Se," said the younger of the pair.

"Who's 'he'? And who're you two anyway? Buddy comedy routine?"

The white-beard chuckled. Despite herself, June found the sound oddly endearing. "Of course. My apologies, young lady. I am Guru Pathik and this is my friend Shyu. We are holy men on a quest to... hrm, I suppose you could say we want to speed forward the hand of destiny. Impertinent, risky, but sadly necessary given recent events."

_Ugh. Religious nutcases. At least they can pay well_. "And who am I looking for, Mister Guru."

It was Shyu who replied, "We don't know his name."

"Great," June quipped. "How old is he?"

"Oh," said Pathik, "maybe one hundred and ten by now?"

"But he might not look it," Shyu interjected. "We're not sure."

June was possessed by a sudden urge to shove the airbender glider back at them. It would probably save her a big headache from hunting after whatever snipe these nutjobs were searching for. Still, it was a _lot _of money. "Look, I don't need a name or age to track somebody. All I need is a scent. Do you have that at least?"

Pathik set down a small cloth bundle on the table, then unrolled it. Inside were four small children's toys: a strange clay turtleduck missing its feathers and beak, a string-driven propeller, a wooden hogmonkey, and a wooden drum with an orange and yellow swirl painted on it.

"Will these be sufficient for your shirshu?" Pathik asked.

June finished her drink, then slammed the glass down on the table. "Sure. Let's ride."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**13. **_**Deserter's Tea**_**; or, the one where Gyatso got frozen alongside Aang.**

Gyatso's cradles the message for Bato and is struck by a simple thought. He need only carry the letter back to the abbey and its very deliverance will drive away those two Water Tribe children.

The outside world is not like temple. Children born on the ground are meant to be with their parents. Katara and Sokka have not seen their father in two years. Against that, how can friendship measure up?

Aang will be saddened by their loss but the boy is strong. Gyatso knows he could carry on to the North Pole alone, if need be. Not that Aang will have to because Gyatso would never leave his side.

Gyatso will carry this letter to its intended recipient. If the children leave to find their father upon hearing this new, they would have done so whether it had been the initial currier or Gyatso who had delivered the letter. It's that simple.

Satisfied, Gyatso walks back to the abbey.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**14. **_**Captain America's Second World War**_**; or, the one where Zuko is in for a world of hurt.**

_Meanwhile... _

"MY PASSAGE ACROSS THE COSMOS HAS REACHED ITS END! I SHALL DEVOUR THIS WORLD AND ALL LIFE THAT DWELLS UPON IT! SO SPEAKS GALACTUS!"

In downtown Manhattan, a young boy with glowing tattoos rises into the sky.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**15. **_**Switched**_**; or, the one with an existentialist Ty Lee and psycho Mai.**

"I realize true individualism is seldom realized," Ty Lee admitted to her friends around the fire. "We have to rely on society around us to survive above a subsistence level, and the co-workers and friends we acquire infringe on our freedom just as family obligations do."

Zuko kicked the sand. "Do you ever listen to yourself talk? She," he pointed to Mai, "said I wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer for wanting to date you. Don't you care?"

"Hey," Mai said, "it's not my fault that the universe is one huge metaphor for kni~ves. I just call it like it is."

"But Mai has a point," Ty Lee said flatly. "If we got married, it would impose a limit on our own freedom to seek out other partners. Moreover, our lives would be bound by the concept of the singular 'couple' created by our relationship."

Azula rubbed her temples. "I can _feel_ myself going crazy being around you two."

"What about love?" Zuko demanded.

"Love is only a brief shelter from the terror of individuality."

Zuko said, "So you'd rather be lonely than make an effort to not be?"

"Don't you ever listen to me?" Ty Lee asked, anger edging into her voice. "I'll always be lonely. Nothing will change that."

"But how can you know that if you've never tried!"

Ty Lee stared into the campfire. "I grew up with six older sisters that looked exactly like me. Nothing I did made me any different from them. It was like I didn't have my own name. And you know what, Zuko? The fact I really _did_ have a name DIDN'T! CHANGE! ANYTHING!" She stood up and walked over to her ex-boyfriend, getting right up in his face. "So don't tell me that sleeping with you will change anything! I'd just be 'Fire Lady' or 'Mom' or - or 'WIFEY'!"

Zuko replied, "I would never call you wifey."

"It doesn't matter _what_ you'd call me! It still wouldn't be who I am _here_!" She tapped her left breast.

He kissed her.

She slapped him, cheeks flushed. "J-jerk! That's no answer!"

"Yeah," Mai piped up. "Don't be such a lip rapist, Zuko."

"Stupid bangs," Azula muttered to herself. She ran her manicured nails through her hair. "Maybe I should just cut you off. That'd show y... oh no. It's starting!"

"I don't have any answers, okay?" Zuko said to Ty Lee. "I - I'm not... I don't even know what I'm supposed to feel anymore! I don't even like myself! I - I don't even know how who I am or what I'm supposed to do! What's right and wrong anymore?"

Ty Lee said, "Those are just arbitrary-"

He cut her off before she got traction on that tanget. "But that doesn't mean I can't like you! I'm not confused about you! And... and what I feel about you doesn't affect my feelings about myself. I'm not any more or less confused when I'm kissing you, Ty Lee. There's more to my life - and your life - than me!"

Ty Lee hesitated. "Like how there's you and me, and you and Azula."

"I'm, uh, not _that way_ with Azula."

Mai interjected, "But it'd be hawt."

"I meant as brother and sister."

"Oh."

Azula had turned her head aside to face the empty shoreline. "Quiet, Mother. It's my hair. I can deal with it as I please, especially the traitorous cowlicks."

Ty Lee lowered her eyes. "Zuko, I can't promise anything. I want to be me, even if that means being lonely."

"Then let's be alone together."

Ty Lee closed her eyes, smiling faintly. "Idiot."

The beachside campfire burned on into the night until time exhausted it.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**16. **_**Suki on Liberty**_**; or, the crappy yuri one I should never have published.**

"O-OH MY KYOSHI!" Suki exclaimed, in her panic scattering ice cubes from the tub she had woken up in. "THAT BITCH STOLE A KIDNEY!"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**17. **_**The Avatar Viewers Didn't See**_**; or, the one where I went a little overboard.**

"Y'know," Sokka whispered to Katara, "I'm starting to worry about her."

"It's not so bad. She's just under a lot of pressure."

"Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill," chanted Yangchen.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**18. **_**The Ghost Who Said "Hello" To the Moon**_**; or, the one with kami!Malu and Yue.**

"Don't know about any airbenders," the farmer said, "but this one time I saw the damnedest thing on Witch Mountain. Last winter, my son and I came across this skeleton in the middle of the woods, only a big wolf was standing guard over it. I mean - HUGE wolf, prolly taller than Ol' Kyoshi herself. It was still there, exact same spot, when we went back in the summer. Ain't that something?"

"Weird," Aang agreed.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**19. **_**A Pocket Guide to Ba Sing Se**_**; or, the one that was propaganda.**

"Anybody got toilet paper?" asked one Fire Nation soldier.

"Here." Another soldier held out his Pocket Guide to Ba Sing Se.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**20. **_**Last Reproach**_**; or, the one where Lu Ten takes a third option.**

"My apologies, Prince Lu Ten, but General Iroh is dining on Admiral Chan's ship tonight. Whatever it is, it'll have to wait."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**21. **_**Salvation Lies Within**_**; or, the one where Ozai gets airbent.**

"Absolutely not!" said Fire Lord Zuko.

"You should reconsider," said Ozai. "We all need to do our part to restore balance to the world. Conjugal visits would help me repopulate the Air Nomads."

"Ew."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**22. **_**Gone Tomorrow**_**; or, the one where Mai threatens Zuko's junk.**

"If you really want to blow your mind," Mai said to Sokka, "try to explain how Azula can keep nearly waist-length hair up in that topknot."

"..._whoa_."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**23. **_**This Song Is Not a Rebel's Song**_**; or, the one where the White Lotus forms.**

"So to sum things up: the Fire Nation is attacking everywhere, Grand Lotus Gyatso is dead, the Air Nomads have all been murdered, the Avatar is missing, and our master plan is fucked. Did I forget to cover anything? I see a hand in the back. Yes, you."

"All the sky-bison are dead too, so no one will ever be able to independently learn airbending, meaning with the Air Nomads gone the Balance of the world will never be restored. All of existence will fall into ruin as entropy overtakes our reality, culminating in the mutual annihilation of both humanity and the Spirit World."

"Yes. _Thank you_ for that reminder, Pathik."

"But it's totally okay! I had a vision that the Avatar lives and that I'll teach him to master the Avatar State in ninety-nine years or so."

"Can someone please take the cactus juice away from Pathik? Thanks."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**24. **_**And That Father Lost, Lost His**_**; or, the one where Azula heavily exposits.**

Azula pinches her nose. "I'll teach you firebending once we're not knee-deep in enemy territory."

"C'mon? Please? Just one move? That's all I'm asking! Pretty please?"

"Will you let me eat my dinner in peace if I do?"

"Sure!"

"...Fine."

Aang punches the air. "Awesome! What's first? Lightning strikes? The swooping butter-moth punch? Corona kicks?"

"Let's start with 'controlling fire'."

"Sure! Sure!"

Azula digs a small log out of their campfire. The business end of the makeshift torch is lit up with a healthy flame. "This is the very first firebending lesson my father ever taught me." Azula holds her free hand over the torch, letting the flames lick her palm. Aang waits, watches, as the princess's skin reddens and blisters.

The Avatar glances nervously between Azula's eyes and her blackening skin. Her expression is almost bored. "What's the lesson?" he finally asks.

"The lesson is not minding."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**25. **_**Act of Contrition**_**; or, the one where Long Feng kicks over Azula's gameboard.**

The Day of the Black Sun was a month gone. The war was finally winding down with the last Fire Nation holdouts negotiating terms of surrender. With their factories and shipyards under control of the Earth Kingdom's armies and the Water Tribe's navy, the countless island fortresses had little to throw against Kuei's forces save their lives, something that last week's Battle of Ember Island had demonstrated was useless.

All was right with the world.

Almost.

Kuei found his tour of the Fire Nation capital a grand experience. The three rings of Ba Sing Se were amazing but _this_ palace... it was so totally unlike the halls Kuei had grown up in. 'Foreign' was such an apt word for the other nations. 'Uncomfortable' also summed up the Fire Lord's throne. Chieftains Arnook and Hakoda agreed with him on that much, although it didn't stop any of them from sitting in it whenever they held their respective war councils. For the peace talks, during which they were still negotiating a treating, the Avatar rightly took the throne.

Yet there were some who wanted to dictate which firebender would next reign from that throne. As the war entered its closing days, a secret order known as the White Lotus had come forward with vital intelligence and an offer of military assistance... and in return they seemed obsessed with crowning Prince Zuko, currently imprisoned under Kuei's palace alongside his uncle and sister, and pardoning General Iroh.

Kuei was open to leniency for the young prince and princess - _someone_ of royal blood would have to rule the Fire Nation - but it proved impossible for the young king to forget what he'd learned of the Dragon of the West's campaign against Ba Sing Se. Yet even as Kuei had insisted General Iroh's trial and likely execution go forward, the White Lotus kept reiterating their pleas. The Avatar even seemed to be waffling in his formerly resolute support of the trial.

It was unseemly. By what right did the White Lotus command kings, let alone the Avatar? What battles had their ancestors won? What lands did they command? They were a formidable force - the near-bloodless taking of Ember Island proved that much - but their secrecy and hidden oaths and divided loyalties were troubling. Arnook might be little troubled by his court's favored waterbender revealing himself as a White Lotus agent, but Kuei had too much experience with laws being writ by a stone-gloved fist to trust such acts of subterfuge.

The Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe had won the Day of the Black Sun, smashing the enemy's war machine and opening the door for the Avatar to battle the Fire Lord. What gave the White Lotus the right to have a say in how the final peace settlement was dictated?

Kuei recalled an old, seemingly nonsensical saying he'd heard as a boy but never quite appreciated until now -_ quell poison with poison._

"We have decided that something must be done about the White Lotus before it becomes a greater problem." Kuei lifted his chin. "Their interests are counter to the Earth Kingdom's."

Long Feng and his Dai Li bowed before the Fire Lord's throne. "We are but your servants to command, Your Majesty."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**26. **_**Winter's Valkyrie**_**; or, the one where Katara is the Full Metal Bitch.**

Katara warned her, "Young lady-"

"YOU'RE NOT MY MOM!" Toph screamed. "I HATE YOU!"

The earthbender ran off.

Katara covered her face with her hands.

"She didn't mean that," Aang said.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**27. **_**Ungoodthinker**_**; or, the one where Ursa misreads current affairs.**

"I heard that Fire Lord Zuko was at some beach party and the host insulted his girlfriend. So you know what the Fire Lord did? He got his friends together and they _burned down _the poor bastard's house_. _With all the guests still inside!"

Ursa nodded grimly. "I'd believe that."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**28. **_**Seeing Toph**_**; or, the one where Sokka inspires Toph's sexual awakening.**

"Toph, it's not that I don't appreciate the painting-"

"Obviously you don't, Suki, otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to take it back."

"It's just... you made me ugly."

"That's a new style I was experimenting in. I'm going to call it the Kyoshi Grotesque school of painting. Congratulations, you're officially at the forefront of the art world."

"Oh. I'm... honored? I'm honored."

"Good."

"..."

"...bitch..."

"What was that, Toph?"

"Philistine! I called you a philistine, Suki. You should be proud of that painting and hang it in your front parlor where everybody can see."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**29. **_**The Two Faces of Tomorrow**_**; or, the one prologue from a longer, unwritten Sokka genderswap that died on the vine.**

With all the men gone to war, it fell to Sonna to oversee the hunting. The mothers were busy minding their children, and the other women were too old and slow. Someone had to feed the village. Begrudging the fact she had to do _men's_ work, Sonna nevertheless became adept at handling the spear, the net and the club.

Every part of the carnivorous beast she had killed today would be used. Its pelt would make the softest of wools. Its meat and organs would feed the village for many weeks. The body would provide much-needed medicine for the tribe: ground bones for tonics, brain for fever relief, and flippers to bury beneath family tents to ward off evil. Sonna didn't believe in that superstitious stuff; for all the older women talked about chi and proper energy balance, she'd never seen incense smoke cure so much as a bloody nose. Gran Gran and the rest would appreciate the goods nonetheless.

The fact that she had taken down a _muskox-lion_ didn't fully hit Sonna until she was standing over its carcass, looking down at its heart in her hands. The fifteen year old could almost feel it pulse. The red blood was hot and sticky on her fingers, and Sonna took care in holding the organ. It wouldn't do to drop such a prize on the ground.

The hunter that killed a muskox-lion earned the right to eat its heart, taking in the beast's courage and strength as their own.

With her little sister watching on with a grin, Sonna bit it. The flavor was as rich as its coppery aroma. Saliva flooded her mouth even as her teeth worked on the tough muscle of heart, ripping a bite of it away. When she got her piece free, Sonna didn't bother chewing. She swallowed it whole.

Katara asked, "Well?"

"It's..."

Sonna had never before tasted anything so delicious.

"Here." She thrust the heart at her sister. "Try it."

Katara took a half-step back. "Sonna, I couldn't. It's not right. You-"

"I couldn't have done it without you. C'mon. You helped score a _muskox-lion_. Eat your heart out." Sonna laughed. "Get it? Eat your heart out? Because there's a heart right here that I'm trying to get you to eat!"

"Yeah. I got it," Katara noted dryly.

Fingers trembling with lingering hesitation, Katara accepted the almost-live heart. With only a little more prompting from Sonna, she brought the organ to her lips and sank her teeth into a small bit. Slamming her eyes shut, Katara worked at gnawing off her piece, inadvertently gobbling more and more tissue down as she strained to get a better hold on her initial bite. When she finally succeeded, Katara thrust the heart back into Sonna's hands and then doubled over.

"Don't spit it out!" Sonna cheered, "Chew! Chew! Chew!"

Her little sister held up one bloodstained palm for silence, but Sonna ignored her. When Katara righted herself, she was still struggling to work the hunk of heart meat in her mouth. Her eyes, still closed, were gathering tears at their corners. Sonna giggled. When Katara swallowed, Sonna would have sworn she had seen the outline of a fist-sized lump slide down her sister's throat.

Katara declared, "That was GROSS!" She wiped off the blood around her lips on the back of her hand. "Dad and Bato have to be crazy to ever eat that!"

"What? No!" Sonna ripped out another hunk for herself. With her mouth filled with half-gnashed heart, she declared, "I could eat this every day! Mmmm mmm mm! Tastes like arctic hen!"

Katara giggled. She tried to stop herself, muffling her mouth with bloodstained hands, but it was no use. She was still laughing herself silly while Sonna was licking her fingers clean.

* * *

. . .

* * *

However much she enjoyed the taste of the resulting sausage, Sonna tried not to think of sizzling meat - or of food at all - when she was preparing raw intestines. The chore was disgusting but a woman had to do what a woman had to do. As Sonna was the one who did most of the hunting for the village now, preparing the raw intestines for casings was easier to do out in the field when they were still warm.

With Katara as a second pair of hands, Sonna cut open the belly of the freshly killed muskox-lion and dug out its intestines. The organs were still piping hot, throwing off steam as they made contact with the cold air of the tent. She laid the intestine out on top of a makeshift worktable; an old hide thrown atop a block of bent ice. While Katara collected the ruffle fat for soup stock, Sonna busied herself with harvesting the rest of the muskox-lion's organs, setting the valuable meat aside in buckets of ice water for preservation.

Sonna worked with her sister to cut up the ropey intestines into more manageable sections. The stench from unpacking the organ's fetid contents was eye-wateringly nasty, but experience made their motions quick and mechanical. The waste was disposed of in the snow outside the tent and Katara covered it with bended snow. The quick cleanup was only possible with her little sister's bending, and Sonna was never more appreciating of waterbending than when she saw it put to practical use. Katara may have crazy dreams about finding a master and playing at being a warrior, but mystical martial arts were no match for being able to quickly wash shit and blood off your hands.

Since Katara was both younger and needed her hands free to bend, it was Sonna who folded back the lip of each intestinal section and held the casing open to the air. Katara would stream water through the intestine, washing out the lingering muck. It was difficult work. Too much water and Katara risked splashing them both. Move too fast and she risked damaging the casing or maybe cutting Sonna's fingers if there was grit in the streaming water.

While her sister recovered from exhaustion, Sonna used a knife to scrap off the mucous coating of the muskox-lion intestines. Katara would pitch in once she caught her breath, going over the cleaned casing and searching for any spots that her older sister missed. Once they were both satisfied that everything was cleaned, they streamed bent water through the dressed intestines one last time, then set them to soak in salt water.

Sonna took pride once the job was done. Her hunting was a necessary evil with the men gone, but _this_ was woman's work at its purest. Any man could eat a heart. It took a woman to go elbow deep into a muskox-lion's guts and make a meal out of things.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Did you remember to save the eyeballs?"

"Yes, Sonna."

"And the lard, you didn't pack it on the bottom? Because it'll squish out under all that weight."

"No, Sonna. It's right here." Katara held up a small, neatly tied bundle. She placed it atop the pile of muskox-lion parts on the sled. "We're all set."

Sonna, who was busy with securing the harnesses on the chattering polar-dogs. "Good. Good."

"Sis?"

"What is it?"

A mitten found its way into Sonna's field of vision. Resting atop the palm was a little bone that tapered to a fine point. "This is yours. It'll ward off evil spirits."

Sonna picked it up. "My own muskox-lion tail tip. Sweet bragging rights." She turned over the bone in her hand, running a thumb over its smooth surface. A stupid grin spread across her face. "I really shouldn't enjoy this, but I do."

"Why not?"

"Hunting's not women's work, Katara." Pocketing the tiny bone safely inside her parka, Sonna said, "I'm sure bagging a beast like this will make me a real prize for all those eligible bachelors out there, 'cuz there's nothing men like better than a wife who can one-up them."

"There's more to life than getting married, Sonna."

"Yeah. Raising kids."

They set off for home.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**30. **_**Longshot and Jet**_**; or, the one where I couldn't think of a decent title.**

His knife sailed true, burying itself in the murderous rebel's left eye socket.

"HA! Got you, you son of a bitch!"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**31. **_**Dangerous Ladies**_**; or, the one where we met Azulon's Angels.**

"The Avatar didn't tell me I'd be fighting two little _girls_." Pakku stroked his inky black goatee. "Humph! You won't be any challenge at all!"

"Oh?" said Li and Lo, eyes narrowed.

From the cliff overlooking the cove, Aang turned to Kanna. "Shouldn't we go down there and help him?"

"No, no. This will be too good to ruin."

"And didn't your father ever teach you how to dress yourselves? Or do they just expect their womenfolk to dress like prostitutes in the Fire Nation? Ugh! I feel like I'm making sweet love to you with just my eyes. I feel ashamed for us alllLLLAAAAAARRRGGHHH!"


	33. The B of Kyoshi Island

**The Bastard of Kyoshi Island**

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**

* * *

**

_**9 years ago (Suki, age 6)**_

The shove to her back sent Suki falling face-first into the cold mud.

Suki reacted by flailing her arms, trying uselessly to catch herself as she landed, but all she managed to accomplish was landing badly on her left hand. That wrist flared with pain as her body weight was forced down on it at an awkward angle. The hot agony in her wrist mixed with the cold mud of the pothole she found herself in.

Suki did not languish in her feelings of wretchedness. Staying still never made the bullies stop. They'd want to take something from her first.

She crawled to her knees, the mud dripping off her threadbare clothes into the large puddle below. Suki kept her hands submerged in the mud, not trusting herself. Through watering eyes, she stared at the ground. Making eye contact would only make them angry and then they'd hit her some more.

Towering over her, blocking out the spring sunlight, were two older boys, about ten years old. They were Randori and his friend Hiji. Both were the sons of fishermen and had no reason to be up in the paddies with the spring barley still ripening, except to deliver a message.

"I said, 'Your Mother's not supposed to shop at my Father's stand'." Randori walked around to her front, his boots sloshing in the muddy road. It had rained the night before. "You retarded or somethin'? Did I need to write it down for you, Suki?"

Hiji said, "I don't think she _can_ read."

Suki couldn't, but she kept her head down and let them think that hurt her. If she could have, Suki would have killed them both. She would have killed _them_ and Randori's _stupid father_ and sunk their family's fishing boat and burned down their h-

She stopped herself.

Suki's fakery wasn't satisfaction enough for Randori. Moving up really close to her, he declared, "Your Mom's not one of us. _You're_ not one of us. My family only sells fish to real Kyoshians, not traitors."

A large, fat air bubble burbled to the surface of the thick muck swollowing Suki's hands. Faint whisps of steam danced above the mud. Only Suki, kneeling over the ground in her best imitation of a beaten dog, saw either event. Terror ran through the six year old, escaping from her lips as a strangled gasp.

"Little bastard's starting to get the point," said Hiji, mistaking her reaction for an indulgence to their bullying. He boot gave the dity a half-hearted kick, almost-but-not-quite spraying Suki with more mud.

Randori went for the direct approach and stepped on one of her hands, pinning it to the soft ground. Suki, drawn out of her cacoon of fear, whimpered. "What's the matter? Am I hurting you, Suki?"

"I think you are," said his friend. "Is the baby crying?"

Suki strove to ignore them, and, as her mother taught her, instead concentrated on counting backwards from ten to rein in her wild emotions. The steam over the mud vanished. The bubbling stopped.

"Hoooo... I think she is!" He put more pressure on his boot and began to crush her small, trapped hand. "Does it hurt?"

"Y-yes," she gasped. Pride, however, kept her from begging them to stop. Not that begging would do anything to help with these two.

"Aw," said Randori, slowly grinding his hand down with his boot, "that's too bad. Hey! I know what you should do! I think you should take your poor widdle booboo," he stepped on her hand with his full body-weight, forcing Suki to choke on a scream, "and ask your slut of a mother to k-"

What Randori meant to say was "kiss it and make it better." What he instead said, after Suki's free hand lashed upwards in a lightning-quick strike to his unguarded testicles, was something altogether inarticulate and partially outside the normal range of human vocal cords.

"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MOM!" she screamed at him.

Hiji managed to widen his eyes and scream a useless "RANDORI!" before Suki pushed the now-unbalanced bully off her pinned hand, hobbled to her feet, and slung a handful of hot mud square into Hiji's face.

With the two bullies scream invectives at her backside, Suki took to the wind and never looked back. She ran and ran, never stopping until she made it back to her family's shack. Legs cramping and heart racing, Suki limped around and pulled the shutters on the windows closed.

Secreted away inside the cramped shack, Suki kneeled on the floor. A small, fire-baked clay bowl of tepid water rested before her. Her mother kept it around their shack at all time, not for eating or drinking, but to help Suki maintain control if the counting didn't help. If she failed to be strong enough, her mom would make her keep her hands submerged in the bowl all evening. Suki couldn't keep her failure a secret. She'd find out, somehow. She always did.

Staring at her clenched, muddy fists, Suki sucked in her breath and began to count aloud.

"T-ten."

She had to control herself. Her mom would be so angry if she didn't.

"Nine."

The wet mud on her hands began to quickly dry out.

"Eight."

Suki never wanted to make her mom worry. Her mom sacrificed so much for her, she worked hard in the fields to give them a place to live and to put food on their table. Suki had known that for a long time. Now she was getting old enough to appreciate the looks that the people in town gave her mom.

She forced herself to uncurl her fists. Bits of dried mud flakes off her fingers.

"S-seven."

Unbidden, the fresh memory of Randori's and Hiji's bullying rose up. It was her fault. It was her fault that they picked on her. Suki knew that much. It was because she was... what she was.

Smoke was beginning to curl over her palms.

"Six."

'Go away,' she commanded.

The wisps of smoke began to dance and swirl. Suki's hands began to tremble with fear.

"F-fff... stop. STOP!" Suki cringed, feeling the traitorous heat gathering in her belly and flowing out to the very tips of her fingers and toes. Tears began to gather in her eyes. "P-please stop," she begged her open palms. "Please."

A half inch above the center of her lefthand palm, a small, sputtering flame no brighter than a firefly at twilight flickered into existence.

Expression curdling with disgust, Suki thrust her hands into the bowl of water. The tiny flame was extinguished at once. When Suki allowed herself to remove her wrinkled, pruned hands from the muddy water a long time later, both the flame and the smoke were both gone.

Shaken, Suki propped open the awning window's wooden screen so to let in a cool breeze. The taint of the smoke was washed away on chill spring air, as if it had never existed at all.


	34. Brilliant But Cancelled

**A/N: **Something a bit different this time: alternative history! Here's a glimpse into a version of our world that never existed.

* * *

**.**

**Brilliant But Cancelled**

.

Originally broadcast in 2005, the thirteen episodes of _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ offer a tantalizing example of serial storytelling that is all too rare in children's entertainment. The basic premise takes some explaining. Set in a fantasy world steeped in Asian trappings, humanity is divided into four nations based on the classic elements: Fire Nation, Earth Kingdom, Water Tribe, and Air Nomads. Certain lucky people ("benders") are born with the ability to manipulate the natural elements. A bender from the Fire Nation, for example, can manipulate fire.

One hundred years ago, the evil Fire Nation declared war on the rest of the world. Only the Avatar, a reincarnating superbender capable of manipulating all four elements, could have stopped them, but he vanished at the war's start. Fast-forward to the present day where two kids from the Water Tribe, warrior Sokka and his waterbending sister Katara, discover the missing boy Avatar frozen inside an iceberg - Aang, the titular last airbender. But no sooner has the Avatar defrosted than the evil Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation arrives on the scene.

Despite the ambitious and complicated premise, _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ delivered its exposition with a light touch, never distracting from the humor or kung-fu action at the show's core. Unfortunately the show failed to draw an audience and Nickelodeon cancelled it in mid-2005. It's not hard to see why. Behind the goofy fun slapstick humor, _Avatar_ dealt heavily in grimdark themes. Aang is the last survivor of the airbenders because the Fire Nation _murdered them all,_ one episode glamorizes a terrorist insurgent as an attractive "bad boy" type, and Big Bad Prince Zuko is only hunting the Avatar because his own father _burned off half of Zuko's face_ and banished him for a minor political faux pas. The heavy use of Asian cultural trappings probably didn't endear it to network executives.

Which is a shame, because grimdarkness aside the show is actually pretty awesome. The characters are memorable, with excellent voice acting all around. The writing is solid. Prince Zuko, for instance, is a surprisingly complex anti-villain for a children's show. In fact, _Avatar_ excels in villainy. In addition to Zuko, there's the smug snake Admiral Zhao (Jason Isaacs) who's out to get Prince Zuko as much as he is Aang. The final episode introduces a scary new villain, the yu-yan archers (think Bullseye crossed with Hawkeye), who would have been brought an interesting reoccurring non-magical opponent to the show's mix had it be renewed for a full season.

Recommended for parents with tweens and animation nuts.


	35. To the Victor Goes

** A/N:** _Fair warning, this drabble is a bit saucier than what I normally produce. Nothing explicit, but there are mature themes. It's also a minor AU, the point of divergence being that Zuko doesn't return to the Fire Nation with Azula between Seasons 2 and 3._

* * *

.

**To the Victor Goes...**

.

* * *

There is a naked girl on Zuko's bed.

Her oiled skin gleams under the bedroom fireplace's golden light, her bare breasts are just big enough that they would fill his palms, and the expression on her painted face is nothing less than murderous.

Zuko notices those things in that order.

An embarrassed flush creeps up Zuko's back. He shields his eyes from her. "W-who are you? What are you doing in my bed?"

"Warming it," she replies cooly. "Just like your sister ordered me to."

Peaking over his raised hand, he notes her auburn hair holds a Fire Nation headpiece. Its design marks her as an elite comfort woman. Syū class: reserved for royal use only.

Zuko grimaces in disgust at Azula's behavior. It is bad enough that his sister had tried setting him up on that fiasco of a dinner date where Mai discovered her pinesachio nut allergy, but leaving him a concubine to keep him company was unforgivable. It is exactly this sort of behavior from Azula that motivated him, in part, to stay behind in occupied Ba Sing Se. "Put on some clothes and leave."

"No!" she cries.

"I don't know how the Earth King behaved, but I don't stoop to using concubines."

"Please," she says through clenched teeth. "If you refuse me, Az- _Princess_ Azula said my friends will be given over to the occupation forces."

"I don't ca-"

Zuko stops.

The concubine's painted face summons a memory from another lifetime, when he met other girls that had faces painted like so.

Kyoshi Island.

The sheer unexpectedness of this turn causes to him lower his hand and study the girl sitting anxiously atop his bed. Only now his eyes are glued to her elaborately painted face.

"What are you doing in Ba Sing Se? Unc... I heard your island is neutral."

The Kyoshi Warrior's eyes burn with an unyielding will, totally alien to what her headpiece signals. "After the Avatar came, we wanted to help people in need on the mainland. And we did, until we met your sister and her friends."

Zuko frowns. "This isn't right. You're a POW. You should be in prison, not..."

Incredulity ghosts across her white-caked face. "You're very naïve."

"S-shut up!" Zuko walks over and steals several pillows from the bed. "I'm taking the floor."

"You're what?"

"We'll lie and say we did... er, activities." He quickly warns her, "Unless you'd like a different arrangement."

"N-no!"

"Then good night."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Prince Zuko meets the dawn with bloodshot eyes. He's used to roughing it, so the marble floor isn't the cause of his sleeplessness.

He staggers to small washroom adjoining his bedroom and closes the door.

A moment later, Zuko's pants pool at his feet.

When it comes time to escort the POW out into the hallway, Zuko can't bring himself to look her in the eye.


	36. Under a Bushel

**Under a Bushel**

.

* * *

To her dying day, Ty Lee never told anyone she was a bender.

Sure, nobody ever _asked_, but why would they? She'd shown no talent as a young child, and after a certain age asking the question became snide. Her parents hadn't really expected her to bend either; their line produced few firebenders. The possible influence of their family's... problematic... ancestry was not mentioned in polite company. Great-grandmother's bad blood didn't mean they were _really_ colonial half-breeds, but it could make all their lives difficult.

Her eldest sister Zun Yen was the family's prized firebender. Ty Lee was just the silly one; born second-to-last and, until she befriended Azula, easily overlooked by the whole family. But that was okay! She liked herself, which was more than most people she knew growing up could say.

Ty Lee was nine when it happened; a late blooming by any nation's standards. She was running through a new acrobatics routine in her bedroom, heart swelling with the joy of movement, when sparks suddenly flew out from her fingertips.

Shocked, she'd stared at her hands. Ty Lee would've been the first to admit she didn't have a proper firebender's personality. You had to be angry to firebend. Ty Lee had a hard time getting upset even when Azula burned holes in her dresses.

But curiosity enticed her to try a basic kata she'd seen Azula and Zuko do. Scowling like a proper firebender should, she punched forward.

Nothing happened.

After several failures, a thought occurred to Ty Lee. She'd firebent when she was having fun, so why not try that?

She tried to remember the happiness in her breast that came from being the best acrobat she could be, the sheer joy there was in defying gravity. Keeping those feelings in mind, Ty Lee punched forward.

Orange flames burst from her knuckles.

At first she was excited, but then Ty Lee realized a few things.

Her parents would be thrilled, but only because it meant Ty Lee would make a better marriage prospect.

Azula never had anything nice to say about other firebenders at school.

Ty Lee would have to be a soldier, have to hurt people. Unless you were a family's last surviving child, all firebenders had to serve time in the military.

So Ty Lee made a decision.

Later, after the war ended, Ty Lee still didn't confess her secret to anyone.

To be a Kyoshi Warrior you had to join the Earth Kingdom, but you couldn't be both a firebender and a citizen of the Earth Kingdom. Why? Because. Never mind that Ty Lee's great-grandmother had been from Omashu. A firebending Ty Lee was a Fire Nation Ty Lee, period.

People were very _silly_ about bending. Ty Lee was who she was, regardless of if she bent fire or water or earth or air or nothing at all. The Avatar _could_ eat meat but _didn't_; nobody called him a meat-eater.

In the end, it was no great sacrifice. As long as Ty Lee could be herself and follow her heart, what more did she need?


	37. WANG FIRE, HERO OF THE FIRE NATION!

**WANG FIRE, HERO OF THE FIRE NATION!**

.

* * *

When other people spit into the wind, their spittle flies back in their faces. When Wang Fire spits into the wind, the wind takes it. Wang Fire killed all the dragons single-handedly, then took pity on Prince Iroh and left him a runt. Wang Fire cures impotency. When the Avatar heard Sozin had begged Wang Fire to lead his armies, he froze himself in an iceberg for a hundred years rather than face him.

It was a waste of time.

"When I left Ba Sing Se," Princess Azula says to the intruders, "I brought home some souvenirs. Dai Li agents... and..."

Wang Fire doesn't step out of the shadows, he deigns for light to finally approach him.

"S-S-Sokka?" cries the comely Water Tribe wench.

_(Katara)_

Wang Fire blinks. "...what?"

Princess Azula moves to his side, attracted by the power of his raw, fiery animal magnitism. Merely by resting a hand on his shoulder, she may already be pregnant. "By the way, Wangy, the Fire Lord is honored to accept your invitation to Lake Laogai."

Wang Fire _does not blink_, the universe ceases to exist for a moment while he contemplates other mysteries. "Hmph! He should be."

"SOKKA!" the Water Tribe cow bleats. "Aang, I have to-"

"We'll plough the road, Sugar Queen."

Wang Fire fights with a sword because glaring his enemies into submission would be too easy. If you can see Wang Fire, it is already too late.

"SOKKA, WAIT! I CAN HEL-"

Wang Fire does not not take prisoners.

Wang Fire does not watch blood run down his blade, he sees blood eagerly racing towards him for the privilege of flowing through his veins. Wang Fire's tears are known to revive the dead, yet he has never cried. Wang Fire's tears are known to revive the dead. Yet he has never cried. He never cries. He never cries. He _never_ cries.

Wang Fire's tears do not revive the dead.

They don't?

They... should.

Why don't they?

"Looks like my toy's broken," Princess Azula tuts. "Well, one out of three down isn't bad."

Wang Fire does not blink. The battle has not past Wang Fire by, he has merely chosen to let his enemies contemplate their inevitable doom for a while longer. When Wang Fire looks up at Princess Azula-

-she isn't choking, she's simply too overwhelmed at the honor of breathing the same air as Wang Fire. Princess Azula isn't lifted into the air, the planet just moves out from under her at Wang Fire's command. When Wang Fire's eyes are clawed out, eyes everywhere are deemed unfashionable because Wang Fire is a fashion icon. Wang Fire is unstoppable. Wang Fire's grip is unbreakable. Wang Fire is Wang Fire is the man amongst men who love their country and would never strike royalty and is unbeatable because Wang Fire is a HERO OF THE FIRE NATION and he loves his country like he loves his sister Katara Fire and so that's that, _bitch_.


	38. Reconstructed in Pink

**Reconstructed in Pink**

**(A Remix of DJNS's "Reconstructed Destinies")**

.

* * *

Ty Lee is thirteen when she finally earns her tattoos. She could have had them a year earlier but she purposefully failed her practical exam on the thirty-sixth and final airbending tier. The nuns chide Ty Lee for being so absentminded in her exercises, and their determination for her to excel seems unreasonable at the time. She's just another novice.

Only she's not. But that news comes later.

Ty Lee, at age twelve, throws her final exam because she can't bear to shave her head and lose the braid of chestnut hair that falls to her mid-back. It's hers, and marks her as such. The six older nuns who share Ty Lee's face and grey eyes have tattoos but no braids.

Everyone at the Eastern Air Temple is Ty Lee's sister, just as every boy at the Southern Air Temple is Ty Lee's brother. If Ty Lee takes a fellow airbender as a mate, he or she will come from the temples at which none of Ty Lee's immediate blood relations live.

Ty Lee has never seen a boy at the Southern Air Temple with her face or grey eyes. But everyone knows about Ty Lee's blood family at the Eastern Air Temple, and they compare her to them, _she knows it_, even if no one says it aloud.

Ty Lee, at age thirteen, takes her final exam and aces it. She weeps when it comes time to shave her head. Sister Iio consoles Ty Lee with the achievement of beating out the previous record holder by a week to become the youngest airbending master in history.

Not that Ty Lee is unaware of the timing.

* * *

. . .

* * *

The midnight sun hangs over the horizon, as near as it will come to setting for weeks yet. Katara _should_ be asleep but isn't. She can't trust her company to behave themselves.

A glance over the lip of the sky-bison's saddle head confirms her brother is still sitting up front, one arm draped over Ty Lee 'for warmth' just like the airbender requested.

Purring ghosts along on the sea breeze.

_Floozy_, thinks Katara.

Untiringly watching them with all the focus of an albatross-hawk empties Katara's mind, and into that space floats a number of thoughts, a few moderately poisonous. Gradually one idea begins to nag at Katara, forcing her to blink first.

"Hey, Ty Lee?"

The airbender turns as much as she can with Sokka's head resting on the shoulder of her orange fleece shawl.

"Katara, what's the matter? Your aura is all tinged with dank green! Are you cold too? What didn't you say something?"

It takes her a few seconds to parse that nonsensical statement. Being told she's jealous of Sokka is laughable, but Ty Lee's worry is earnest.

"No," Katara says. "I was wondering... you're an airbender. Do you know what happened to the Avatar?"

"Of course I do!"

Katara rises to her knees. "You do?"

Ty Lee grins. "_I'm_ the Avatar."

She rolls her eyes. "Right. And you look pretty good for a hundred plus year old airbender."

"Thanks?"

"I was just curious. Goodnight." Katara turns over and rests her back against the saddle rim. Her eyes close. This way Ty Lee will be off her guard. When the airbender attacks Sokka, Katara will rush in and save her brother from himself.

Three minutes later she's fast asleep.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Looking for me?"

All eyes turn to her and a pleasing shiver races up Ty Lee's spine at being the center of attention once again.

The firebender stares at her, and he might be a little bit of a sweetie since he stares at her face and not the bountiful area just to the south. "You're an airbender? You're the Avatar?"

Her waterbending friend is taken aback. "_Ty Lee_ is the Avatar?"

Oh Katara! "I told you, silly!"

Sokka grins. "I snuggled with the Avatar?" His fist punches the air. "YES! Er... I mean, huh. How curious."

"Better," says Katara.

"I've spent years preparing for this encounter. Training. Meditating." The firebender spits, "You're just a teenager!"

"That's true!" Ty Lee strokes her lips with the ball of her thumb. _I wonder where else he has scars. Mm. _"Now why don't we all sit down, have a nice cup of tea, and discuss our differences peacefully?" She claps her hands together hopefully.

The cutie blasts her with fire.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"On second thought," the Avatar says, "you're not much to look at."

Zuko, hogtied and bruised, stews in the back of the sky-bison's saddle.

The Water Tribe idiot lowers his spyscope. "The warship is definitely following us."

The Avatar hums happily. "You're uncle must really care about you to agree to that ceasefire."

"Ah," sighs the Water Tribe girl, "that memory is going to keep me warm at night. An oh-so-mighty Fire Nation prince trounced by a girl."

"I was not _trounced. _I just need to take the Avatar alive. If she won't fight honorably, then next time I won't hold back."

"Honorably?" sniffs the Water Tribe girl. "It was six on one!"

"She's the Avatar!"

"And she beat you all half to death with a big stick," says the Water Tribe boy.

The Avatar giggles. "Thwack!"

* * *

. . .

* * *

Iroh finds his nephew several hours later, bundled up in a fur blanket atop a small iceberg in the middle of the ocean.

"You see, nephew? We were both right! There _are_ a lot of pretty girls out there and so is the Avatar! You found what both of us wanted for you!"


	39. AtLA 500 in 500: Rival Bid!  Part 1

**A/N:** _This one one takes some explaining. A lot of my shorter drabbles spin out of the 'Avatar 500' drabble contest, where every two weeks or so there's a new round centered on a different theme. Sometimes the writers for that contest take 25 prompts and try to fill them all in one drabble amounting to exactly 500 words. Reposted below are two entries of mine in that category, so 50 prompts for a total of 1000 words (minus the bolded numbering and theme names). Ignore FFnet's alternative word count. It adds things up oddly._

_._

* * *

**AtLA 500 in 500: Rival Bid!**

**Part 1 of ?**

* * *

.

**#01 - element:** "And I need meat!"

The thespian drank in the audience's laughter.

**#02 - doubt: **"Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all killed an Avatar," Ty Lee said, "but you won't get lucky with me."

Zuko, limp, glared up at her from the deck.

**#03 - undying: **An middle-aged Korra watched as the skies turned red over a peaceful world where the Four Nations lived in harmony.

They still called it Sozin's Comet.

**#04 - obstacle: **Mai drew a knife. "Zuko won't survive a rival claim."

Azula spat in her eye.

**#05 - tyrant: **"He's going to start calling himself the Phoenix King."

The roomful of generals and admirals was silent for a long time.

**#06 - outdo: **"That was amazing, Azula! The best! The most spectacular amazingist-"

"That's sufficient, Ty Lee."

**#07 - neglect: **"Of course! The Fire Nation would have discovered my invasion plan when they took over Ba Sing Se!"

Down on the dock, their submarines burned.

"Great timing, Sokka."

**#08 - token: **Kanna snatched the necklace back from Pakku. "No. This is _mine_ now."

**#09 - honor:** Zuko brought back the elderly last airbender in chains. It changed nothing.

**#10 - monk: **"A temple with only men?" Kuruk snorted. "Nuts to that!"

**#11 - teach:** Kyoshi asked, "And how long have you been 150 years old, sifu?"

Pathik only smiled.

**#12 - devour: **Azula wiped her lips along the thigh's flesh. "Mmm. My favorite prisoner."

**#13 - memory: **"Say," Hakoda began, "why _were_ you frozen in that iceberg anyway?"

"Er..."

**#14 - supernatural: **"The benders have divided this one world into four nations that make war on each other," a man with Water skin and Fire eyes proclaimed from his soapbox. "And why do we let them? Because, by chance, they have magic powers!"

Korra watched the crowd nod along.

**#15 - defeat: **"For the last time, Sokka, I will _not_ move Kyoshi Island to the South Pole!"

"Awww..."

**#16 - mad: **Roku tried not to smile. "He only meant it as a joke."

Sozin stoically wiped fruit pie off his face. "I'll see you pay for this insult."

Gyatso impishly stuck out his tongue. "You and what army?"

**#17 - stir: **"Wait." Iroh checked his pot. "What do white dragon bush blossoms look like again?"

The tea shop fell silent.

**#18 - cut: **"Stupid gloomy girl," Katara muttered, sewing needles sandwiched between her lips, "making more work for me."

**#19 - light: **"But Dad really IS going to ki-"

The slap echoed through the palace hallway.

"Don't tell jokes like that, young lady!"

**#20 - spontaneous:** _"Attention all hands,"_ said Uncle. _"Today now be Talk Like a Pirate Day."_

**#21 - crack:** On the beaches of Kyoshi Island, Iroh stood at the forefront of an army of old men. "We, the guardians of the White Lotus Clan's memory, cannot let the last student of the villain Pai Mei pass on her knowledge of the Five-Point-Palm Exploding Heart Technique!"

Ty Lee, grinning, cracked her knuckles.

**#22 - knight:** Piandao knelt. "You have my sword."

**#23 - soothe: **"What if we _cool_ the Fire Lord's _hot_ temper with a _fresh_ island song?"

"Y'know," Sokka said, "I think Aang's onto something."

**#24 - contest:** Hakoda looked over Aang, Zuko, Haru, and the rest. "The tournament champion will win my daughter's hand!"

Katara blinked. "Um, no."

**#25 - jail:** "I told you we shouldn't have stolen that girl's ostrich-horse."

"Just pass the soap, Uncle."

**#26 - glow:** _Was that iceberg... glowing?_

Hama rubbed her tired eyes, then resumed her patrol.

**#27 - sky:** At the Boiling Rock, Suki kept watching the exercise yard's sky. She never saw Appa.

**#28 - free:** As the Avatar fell to earth, smoke streaming from his scorched back, Azula choked up. If she could kill a god, she could accomplish _anything._

**#29 - travel:** "I just wanted to see the world for myself," Yue confessed.

June tossed the hogtied princess atop her mount. "Should've asked daddy's permission first."

**#30 - pirate:** "That captain was gracious after we saved his ship. Do you think he can find that waterbending scroll for you?"

"I hope so," Hakoda told Bato. "It'll make up for all the birthdays of Katara's I've missed."

**#31 - mirror:** "I'm putting a team together," Prince Zuko said, "to capture my senile uncle and Azuzu."

Wang Fire grinned over his frothy mug. "Count me in!"

**#32 - empty:** "Stomach hurts... need... meat!"

**#33 - trust:** "So Long Feng's our friend now?"

"No," said Azula. "He wants a patsy."

"Oh no!" Ty Lee paused. "What's a patsy?"

**#34 - red:** "Get busy living or get busy dying, nephew."

"Just pass the soap already!"

**#35 - water:** Hue gestured to a graceful woman. "And this is my wife."

Aang said, "Hi, Mrs. Hue!"

"Please, call me Ursa."

**#36 - lost: **"And then Zuzu was all _MY EYE!"_

Mai buried her face in her sleeve.

**#37 - feel:** "Hands above the waist."

"Sorry, Suki."

**#38 - road:** The thief riffled through her pockets, then left Ursa's body in the ditch.

**#39 - captive:** Three days after the Battle of the Black Sun, the foreign occupation troops dragged Zuko out of the cell.

"No, I really had turned against my father!"

Katara made a face. "Can't you do anything but lie?"

**#40 - give:** "I love Zuko more than I fear you."

Inside Azula's head, a bowstring snapped.

**#41 - window:** Katara stared in at the bonfire cinders at the center of Air Temple's nursery, then slowly shut the door.

**#42 - music:** "And I love you, Zuko," Katara told the Blue Spirit of the Opera.

But then she took off his mask!

**#43 - never:** "What an amazing sunrise." Gyatso admired the comet overhead. "I wonder how tomorrow's will top it."

**#44 - yellow:** Ozai crumpled the long list of ships lost at the North. So many lives lost for nothing - _again_ - because Iroh didn't have the guts to finish the mission.

**#45 - earth:** "That's some girl."

Sokka and Zuko shared a glance. Everyone else might be too distracted by the riot or impressed by the leap, but they knew better. No Earth Kingdomer could so effortlessly jump that high.

But an _airbender_...

**#46 - hold:** Zuko had to brew the ginseng tea six times before the flavor was exactly right. "See the prisoner receives this."

**#47 - charm:** Iroh glanced over his nephew's shoulder at the sullen, flat-chested girl sitting by herself in the corner. "Seriously?"

**#48 - finish:** Ozai stood over a burned, screaming Zuko. The agni kai's referee announced, "Flawless victory."

**#49 - lake:** Jin rested a hand on her swollen belly, wondering when she'd enjoy another relaxing weekend at Lake Laogai.

**#50 - return:** Sokka, his chest bulging with the medals pinned to it, leapt off Appa's saddle. "I have returned."

"Great," said Gran-Gran. "Now go clean your room."


	40. Suki With Fire Nation Characteristics

**A/N: **_Another character swap fic, although this one is unrelated to _Reconstructed in Pink_. _

* * *

.

**Suki With Fire Nation Characteristics**

.

* * *

**0.**

Zuko, born a boy on Kyoshi Island, lives out a peaceful existence as an elephant-koi fisherman.

Suki, born a princess of the Fire Nation, hunts bigger game.

* * *

**1.**

A bowl of desalinated seawater to clean her face.

An application of green corrector to offset her angry scar.

Foundation matched to her skin tone.

An eyebrow is sketched on.

Finally, a light dusting of powder is applied.

The end result transforms Suki into a passable copy of the girl she might have been. A drape of auburn hair hides her half-melted ear, while whenever she goes ashore the princess adopts a stern glare to compensate for her mismatched eyes.

Suki is now ready to face the day.

* * *

**2.**

"I have hundreds of warships under my command, and you... you're nothing. All the makeup in the world won't cover _that_ up."

The curl of Suki's lip offers a good look at her gleaming incisors. "Are you trying to get on my bad side?"

Zhao drives the knife in with relish. "Doesn't it matter to you that your own father considers you a failure and disgrace?"

"It doesn't," she replies flatly. "I was ordered by the Fire Lord to capture the Avatar. So I will. That's what 'duty' means."

Zhao laughs.

"I'll challenge you to an agni kai if you won't stand down."

Zhao laughs again.

He's not laughing after Suki paints the ground with his charred brains.

* * *

**3.**

The catapult fails to knock out the sky-bison, leaving Suki no choice.

She turns the ship around.

"I'm not allowed to enter Fire Nation waters, so we'll track him when he returns to the Earth Kingdom."

"A wise choice, niece."

"Set course for north of the blockade. He'll most likely come back through there."

* * *

**4.**

Suki tosses the pirate captain his precious waterbending scroll. Soon he and his ship are sailing back downriver.

"I wouldn't expect Water Tribe like you to understand," she finally says, "but stealing is wrong."

"Yeah! Because the Fire Nation never takes anything that isn't theirs!"

Suki's hands go for Katara's neck.

"My mother's necklace!" the waterbender says, staring down at the newly fastened necklace. "How-"

"Civilized people shouldn't steal things either," Suki admits quietly.

* * *

**5.**

Across the pai-sho board, Uncle blinks.

"Fine. Maybe not _friends_," Suki says, "but she easily would've been one of my sparing partners back home. Mastering a technique after just a few hours with a instruction scroll? Not even Azula could do that."

"No, she couldn't." Uncle strokes his goatee. "I'm just surprised to hear you express any admiration for people outside the Fire Nation, let alone for the Water Tribe."

"It's one girl, not her people. _They're_ going to get what's coming to them at summer's end."

He warns her, "Niece..."

"Why do you always have to be such an apologist?" Suki snaps. "Anyone who treats women like the Water Tribe does has no right to call itself a civilization."

They shuffle pieces around the board in silence for several minutes.

"So what is your unusual strategy with the lotus tile anyway?"

"I don't think it's your style, niece."


	41. Yesterday, When the War Ended

**Yesterday, When the War Ended**

.

* * *

Monk Gyatso found him in the royal garden.

Aang was sitting under a tree's shade, elbows resting on drawn up knees. It was hardly a dignified pose for an adult, let alone the Avatar, but Aang didn't care. Even if he worried about being caught acting childish, he was safe. His mentor was the only other living person for miles around.

"Are you ready to go?" Gyatso asked.

Overhead, a songbird warbled.

Aang glanced up, then returned his focus to the short grass. He dusted his fingers over it. "Did anyone check to make sure they took the grazers with them? I should have asked. It's not right to leave them here."

"They scythe."

"Huh?"

His elderly teacher settled down next to him. "Roku told me once. The gardeners scythe the grass when it gets too long."

"Why?"

"Something about how it was undignified for the Crown Prince to trod on a moo-sow patty."

"What did they do with all the cut grass?"

"I don't know," Gyatso replied. "I never thought to ask."

In the distance, underneath the buzz of insects and chirps of birds, the evacuation horns continued to blast their final warning. Occasionally a sky-bison cut across the sky, searching below for any last-minute stragglers.

Aang rubbed his eyes. "This revenge won't solve anything. Those children... they won't think it's fair that I destroyed their home. Their parents are parents, not war criminals. I'm taking both away and this is going to start all over again one day _and I have no idea how to stop it_!"

The final peace with the Fire Nation had been hammered out at length, but at every stage he'd had to fight against demands for vengeance - including, to Aang's continuing horror, from the Air Nomads.

The colonies on the Earth Kingdom's coast were razed but, to the Earth King's disgust, only after the colonist had been safely evacuated.

The new Fire Lord had been forced to scuttle his navy's ironclads but, to the Water Tribe's consternation, without their crews aboard.

Those involved in planning and orchestrating his people's near-total extermination were banished to a subarctic prison island, not executed. But the only way he'd gotten the Air Nomad elders to relent on their demand for a trial for _every single soldier_ involved - which entailed an endless hunt that would rip the world apart - was to guarantee that the Fire Nation would know the pain of losing a sacred home...

...by exploding the volcano underneath their capital.

Gyatso wrapped a thin, emaciated arm around his student's shoulders, as if Aang were a boy again and not a grown man with his own child. "Remember you've saved lives. Better jail than execution, and better a city lost than a people." Although which people he spoke of neither airbender precisely knew.

Aang wiped away tears. "Yeah."

When they stood up to leave, they found their robes stained from the green grass. The smell of it stayed with them hours after the garden had been reduced to atoms and ash.


	42. Twice a Traitor

_**A/N:** I just ran a Zuki (Zuko/Suki) prompt post over on my livejournal, so expect there to be a trickle of such stories over the next few days as I finish them off one-by-one. This one is for clockworkchaos, who asked for a firebender!Suki piece._

* * *

.

**Twice a Traitor**

.

* * *

To her back, the Avatar sits blissfully unaware of the inferno raging around him. Nothing is sacred anymore in the Spirit Oasis. Grass and branch alike burn. A pillar of smoke rises high overhead. Suki can barely breathe in the hot, wretched air. At least Katara was knocked flat; less chance of suffocating before she wakes up.

"You little peasant," Zuko sneers. "You TRAITOR!"

He punches forward and the world explodes. Suki's own firebending breaks the strike - mostly. The awful heat still sizzles the sweat off her face and leaves her soot-stained parka smoldering.

It's easy to draw on her own memory for vital anger: uniform being torn off her, the ineffable sensation of _falling falling falling falling_, the bone-deep jarring blow from hitting the bay waters...

Suki still has kyoshijutsu in her blood, despite everything. She draws on it now. Her right arm swings out, like she's slicing open an enemy's chest with the edge of her tessen, only her hand holds wildfire. The flame lashes out at Zuko's knees.

He diffuses it with a swift defensive kick.

He's looking at her now. Only her. The Avatar might be lost a thousand miles away instead of in the choking smoke.

"When your own people tried to feed you to a sea serpent, I rescued you! Trained you! I was _your friend_! And you repay me by _teaching the Avatar?"_

Suki realizes three things:

Zuko wants to kill her.

Zuko is probably going to kill her...

...and she feels fine about that.

Suki just needs to hold him off for a little while longer. Yue is bringing reinforcements. Someone will come to rescue Aang. Someone once came for her, after all.

"I know," she chokes out. "I'm sorry."

Her firebending sifu stares back at her. The only things left in his golden eyes are rage and hurt. Finally he asks, "Why?"

"I guess... because I never changed."


	43. Austerity

_**A/N:** I recently ran a Zuki (Zuko/Suki) prompt post over on my livejournal. This one is for Loopy, who prompted me with the line "You found her *where*?"_

* * *

.

**Austerity**

.

* * *

Let's talk demographics.

Kyoshi Island's century-old policy of militant neutrality had many unforeseen consequences.

A minor one was that whenever someone in the Fire Nation's Intelligence Ministry made a career limiting move (like, say, being caught in bed with an admiral's nubile daughter) they were promoted to field agent, given a hilariously erroneous mission briefing, and shipped off to infiltrate Kyoshi Island. This surplus of 'spies' kept both the islanders' paranoia and the Unagi well-fed.

Another, longer-term effect was that Kyoshi Island's population pyramid never underwent the winnowing that practically every other prefecture and province did the world over. In short, it had too many people living to too old an age. This matter was compounded by a steady trickle of immigrants seeking shelter on the peaceful island and taking up the traditional, heart-healthy Kyoshian diet.

These old people had certain needs. Importing the necessary medicinal herbs and rat-viper oil from the mainland cost serious money. The kind of money you didn't make with docking fees and fish exports. Chief Oyaji, whose yearly reelection hinged on keeping that vital constituency of old people healthy and hale, eventually faced a major budget shortfall.

Cutting defense was a no-brianer. The upkeep of six Kyoshi Warriors was steep; non-toxic face paint and silk uniforms with gold threading didn't come cheap. Also the odds of six teenage girls holding off the Fire Navy were, frankly, pitiful.

So the old people got their medicines, Oyaji got reelected as chief, and everyone was happy.

Well, everyone except for the six trained warriors, all deeply educated in the life of an Avatar, now in need of jobs.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"You found her _where_?"

"Down by the docks," his nephew replied. Beside him stood a pretty young girl with an elaborately painted face. "She and her friends were hanging out on the docks looking for work."

Iroh paused, sniffed the tea in his cup, before deciding that, no, it hadn't been spiked. "And you hired her? For... work?"

Zuko rolled his eyes. It was mildly insulting, especially coming from a boy who'd never shown any interest in girls before. On one hand Iroh was pleased at this shift in focus; thoughts of the Avatar didn't keep one warm on the long, chilly nights at sea. On the other hand he'd never expected his nephew to be so mercenary about the special bond between men and women.

"They're very knowledgeable, Uncle, and their skills will bolster this ship." As if on cue, several painted ladies in elaborate dresses strode up the gang plank. The sailors on deck stopped and stared at the girls. "I want Jee to schedule drills with the Kyoshians. We need to figure out how to all fit together seamlessly."

Iroh shook his head sadly. _At least he's showing interest in something beside the Avatar._


	44. Payback

**A/N:** _I__ recently ran a Zuki (Zuko/Suki) prompt post over on my livejournal. This one is for Omoni, who prompted me for a fic where Suki extracted sexy payback from Zuko for burning down Kyoshi Island._

_Fair warning: This entry is darker than what I normally produce. Nothing explicit, but there are mature themes._

* * *

.

**Payback**

.

* * *

Blame the flower.

Full Moon Bay is a drab, dreary waypoint filled with unwashed refugees. There is little aside from the salt breeze to brighten up Suki's days. So when she's standing on a rampart scanning the boarding lines for any trouble, it's only natural a bright pink blossom will catch her eye.

Even as Suki is still admiring the beautiful flower, the old man turns to talk with the person standing behind him in line, a young man Suki's age...

...with a garish burn scar painted across the left side of his face.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Tickets and passports please."

Prince Zuko's topknot is gone but that face... Suki could never forget the man who burned her village. He doesn't recognize her, she can tell. That's half the reason Kyoshi Warriors wear all-concealing war paint.

"Is there a problem?" he asks warily.

The people around them in the boarding queues are slowing, trying to eavesdrop while looking inconspicuous.

"Yeah," she growls, using her anger to give them all a good show, "I've seen your type before. Aren't you a little far from home, _goldie_?"

A handful of the passers-by glare at her for using that word, others smile slightly and nod encouragement. Most just keep walking, not wanting trouble from a guard obviously picking a fight with some half-Earth, half-Fire boy who had the poor misfortune to be born with the wrong color eyes.

Prince Zuko glares back. With a bitterness she doesn't expect, he says to her, "I don't have a home anymore."

The old man with the flower puts his hand on the prince's shoulder. His eyes are gold too. A bodyguard, maybe? "I'm sure my nephew will be willing to help you any way he can, miss."

Suki's eyes bug out at the word 'nephew'. To cover herself, she quickly rattles off, "A-another goldie, huh? I'll need to see your papers too. Let's go. You're holding up the line."

* * *

. . .

* * *

There are holding rooms carved into the mountainside that houses Full Moon Bay, cells with iron bars laced in the floor and walls to keep earthbenders from running. Suki's thrown drunks, thieves, brawlers, and opium addicts into the cells before. Never any firebenders.

Zuko, whose passport lists his name as 'Lee', objects loudly when Suki tells her supervisor that she took them into custody for pick-pocketing. He still ends up alone in a cell.

She needs to call the army in to take custody of the prisoners. But first...

* * *

. . .

* * *

While her girls guard the hallway, Suki's second-in-command follows her into the cell. Prince Zuko glares at the armed newcomer. "One of your friends?" he spits.

"She's here to make sure you don't do something stupid before you earn your way out of jail."

The offer gives him a moment's pause. More sedate, he says, "I don't have any money."

"I'm not interested in money." The Fire prince stares back at her, not comprehending, as she removes her belt. "I'll let you and your uncle go," she lies, "if you make it worth my while."

His eyes go wide as her trousers pool on the floor. Suki shivers at the rush of cold air against her bare inner thighs, and at the thought of a prince of the Fire Nation on his knees for her. Blood rushes to his cheeks. The unexpectedness of _that _causes her and her second to share a smile.

Well, he wasn't foaming at the mouth. That was an improvement over her ex-boyfriend.

Suki adds, "You can still make the evening ferry, goldie. Understand?"

Averting his eyes, Prince Zuko climbs down onto his knees.

Revenge feels fantastic.


	45. Man Among Men

**Man Among Men**

* * *

.

Pakku stood before his newly swollen class. Boys and men alike had shown up for the refresher course. Many of them were fresh from the Healing Huts, sporting shiny patches of skin from newly healed burns. The siege had left his people with many scars; some of them were even physical.

"The Octopus Form is among the most versatile techniques in waterbending," Pakku began, reciting a lecture that he had given for decades, "and is perhaps the hardest form to master. It took me until my thirties before I was capable of using each of the eight tentacles for independent action simultaneously. Despite the difficulty, the Octopus Form is well worth the effort. Any enemy foolish enough to attack a master of it fights eight waterbenders in one body. "Before we commence with a demonstration, a word of... _er_..."

It was at that point that Pakku remembered two important facts. First, that his prize student, Katara, was standing front-and-center. Second, that Katara was a girl.

Pakku believed that if Katara was good enough to train with the men, she was good enough to be _treated_ like a man. It was almost possible to squint and make himself believe she was an overly feminine boy, she was that much of a natural at waterbending's male forms.

But...

Katara wasn't. She was a she.

And while his prize student would be a true master of the art before she inevitably gave it up to be a mother to her future children, Pakku wasn't naïve. Girls were just as liable as boys to abuse the Octopus Form. That didn't mean he had to _like_ giving this talk to a girl.

Pakku sighed. 'Necessity' really was the dirtiest word.

"Before we commence with the demonstration, a word of warning: we are not earthbenders who can exploit our talents to deviant ends. _Water is _**_not_**_ a lubricant._ So if any of you idiots are thinking about showing off the Octopus Form to your girlfriend or fiancee, please understand that they will not be your girlfriend or fiancee for long, nor will you be welcomed warmly at the Healing Huts when you have to carry her in for emergency treatment."

The class tittered with embarrassed laughter. If Katara blushed, Pakku didn't know. The sky overhead was suddenly very interesting.


	46. Fight On

**A/N:** Written for the Avatar Spirit forum's DrabbleDrabbleDrabble contest, for a round whose theme was "passed chances"/"missed opportunities". In this drabble's case, an opportunity that a character passed over in canon.

* * *

.

**Fight On**

.

* * *

"Hey Zuzu."

Knees drawn up to his chin, Zuko focused on the calm waters of the turtle-duck pond, hoping his sister would go away already. But wishing for something, he had learned in the weeks since his mother's disappearance, didn't make it happen.

"Heeeey, Zu~zu!" Pouncing up behind him, she rapped her knuckles on his head. He swatted Azula away. His reaction elicited a chuckle from his little sister. "What'cha doing?"

"Thinking," he answered glumly.

"How boring." Azula settled down next to him on the pond's grassy bank. She leaned over, smiling, and whispered, "Guess what? His tea loving kookiness sent Dad another letter." She laughed, clutching her side because of the stitches in it. "Aha ha ha ha! Oh man, you should have seen the color Dad's face turned when he heard what Uncle called him this time! I mean, can you believe the nerve of that man, saying he's supposed to be the Fire Lord?"

"I heard," Zuko said, "that people are talking about - " his voice dropped to a nearly inaudible level " - civil war."

Azula snorted. "That's what you get for listening to the maids, brother. It's a good day when they can remember which of their hands is the left one."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"No," she replied instantly. "Because when it comes down to Dad and Uncle in an agni kai, Dad wins hands down."

"But... what if... there isn't an agni kai?"

His sister rolled her eyes. "Then everyone will realize Uncle Fuddy-Duddy is the one in the wrong for turning down Dad's challenge. _Duh_."

"How do you know that for sure?"

"Dad told me so yesterday, when we were talking about this stuff." She grinned. "_Oh_, didn't he get around to talking with you, huh?"

"No."

But Zuko wondered.

Even if he hadn't joined Azula behind the curtains today, he has spied on his father's council meetings in the past. The way they were all talking now, his uncle was the one demanding an agni kai on Crescent Island to settle things. That didn't make sense if his father also wanted to fight. Unless they were arguing over the details?

Zuko said, "I guess he's just busy with everything going on."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, Zuzu."

He sighed.

That was a mistake. He knew so as soon as he did it.

Azula, hounding him for the slightest show of weakness, sneered, "What? Don't you believe in Dad?"

"Of course I do!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "How could you ask me something like that?"

She glared at him, all serious and angry. For a moment his sister looked so much like their mother that it tore up Zuko's heart. But then her expression folded over, turning amused, and the resemblance was lost. "Don't worry, Zuzu. Even _I_ don't think you're stupid enough to be backing Uncle. You're a lot of things, but a traitor isn't one of them."

Azula smirked. "I wish I could see the look on Uncle's face when he realizes that Dad's right. That'd be a surrender to see, huh?" She snickered. "After all, he's had practice giving up at Ba Sing Se once already."

Outwardly nodding in agreement, Zuko still felt his stomach twist up inside. He couldn't help but think of the pearl dagger which his newly estranged uncle had so recently gifted to him, and the inscription upon its blade:

'Never give up without a fight.'


	47. Maiki

**Maiki**

.

* * *

Suki delicately angled Mai's head, one hand holding her jaw by thumb and forefinger, the other hand applying delicate paint strokes with an ostrich-horse hair brush. The steel-like focus in Suki's eyes was unnerving. Mai was not used to being the center of anyone's attention. Like most noblewomen, she was expected to be as memorable as furniture.

"The trick," the prisoner-of-war said for the benefit of her audience, Ty Lee and Azula, who had also absolutely fouled up their own attempts to apply the elaborate make-up of the Kyoshi Warriors, "is to use smooth, even strokes. You can't fudge mistakes with paint the way you can with normal make-up."

Mai took slow, shallow breaths as Suki continued her work, maneuvering Mai's face for proper painting angles. Her stomach tightened at the thought of what control she had given up to the Earth Kingdom warrior.

Her calloused fingertips felt warm against Mai's jaw. Strangely, the memory of that warmth would stay with her for a long time to come.


	48. Breaking Out

_**A/N:**_ _This takes place at some point post-series._

**_

* * *

_**

.

**Breaking Out**

.

* * *

It was all Sokka could do to keep from gloating. Fools. They had left him alone in his cell and assumed he couldn't escape with his hands chained behind his back.

Well, they were right on that last count. Sokka needed to see his hands if he was going to be able to fight his way out the door... once he figured out how to trick the guards into unlocking it. But they _were_ wrong to think they could cage a man of the Water Tribe. After all, you might chain a man's body but you couldn't imprison his mind!

Their fatal assumption was their belief that Sokka couldn't get his manacled hands from his back up to his front. Yet a body, like a mind, could accomplish anything if it was flexible enough.

His back on the cold metal floor and his knees folded down to his chest, Sokka very slowly and very painful proved just what he was capable of.


	49. Hymn of Valor

**Hymn of Valor**

.

* * *

After returning from the theater, everyone found themselves drifting from the beach house into the central courtyard. Sokka and Suki were splitting a cantabanana under the stars. Aang, hanging off the tiled roof, wanted the fresh air. Katara practiced her waterbending every night to wind down. Toph just wasn't tired. Zuko didn't want to be alone.

No one admitted they needed some time for the echoes of the audience's cheering to fade before they would be able to sleep. They did, however, approach the topic from a ninety degree angle: by mocking the play.

"They got my uniform's colors wrong," Suki said. "It's not like Avatar Kyoshi isn't well known."

Toph pointed out, "The actress playing you was a good lookalike, though."

Sokka nodded. "That's true!"

Toph waited.

When no one gave her the satisfactory response, she crossed her arms with a huff.

"Y'know," Aang said, feet dangling off an archway, "I bet we could easily tell better stories than that play."

Everyone agreed they could.

So a campfire was started and the friends gathered 'round to each share their own story. Since it was Zuko's father's house they were illegally squatting in, the prince was given the first turn.

Zuko faced his audience across the fire pit. Against the firelight, ominous shadows flickered across the rough texture of his scarred face. "A long time ago," he began, "before even the ancient walls of Ba Sing Se had been raised up, the children of fire faced a great disaster. Our homeland, once a lush continent guarded from Ice Kingdom raiders by the tyrant Sun Warriors, began to drown as the tide slowly rose... and never retreated."

"Oh wow," Toph said flatly. "Water. Scary."

Zuko shot her a dirty look only to remember such a gesture was pointless with her. "And by rose, I meant it _kept rising_. The people fled to the mountainsides, which in time became islands as the ocean waters chased after them. The Sun Warriors and their king-priests were cast down by the people for failing to protect them from the water spirits, who had melted the endless ice fields of the waterbenders' empire in a bid to drown the children of fire."

Sokka perked up. "We had an empire?"

"A cruel, merciless empire that covered the entire northern hemisphere."

"Niiiice."

Zuko pressed on, "As the people divided into a hundred islands and a hundred tiny kingdoms, it was the Fire Sages, priests who had turned their back on the old ways of human sacrifice and slavery, who traveled from island to island, carrying the flame of firebending and teaching the art.

"One day, two Fire Sages met halfway across a long, narrow bridge that straddled a thousand foot canyon. Neither man could pass the other, so for one man to pass the other would have to walk back the way they came. Both sages had urgent business that couldn't afford to be delayed, for both sages had given their word that they would be at certain places on a certain time. To turn back would be to break their honored word. So, to solve their dilemma, the two sages agreed to a duel. This is the origin of the agni kai."

Aang raised his hand. "Question!"

"Yes?"

"Why didn't one sage just, y'know, kneel down and let the other sage climb over him?"

"...Um...because it wouldn't be dignified?"

"Or," Sokka said, gesturing with two palms moving flat against each other, "why didn't they just kinda suck in their breath and slide past each other if the bridge was so narrow?"

Zuko fidgeted. "Same answer."

Suki asked, "And if they fought a firebender's duel, why didn't the bridge burn down and collapse and kill them both?"

"IT WAS A STONE BRIDGE, OKAY?"

"Meep," went Suki.

Sokka protectively put his arm over her shoulders and snuggled. "Well you should have said it was a stone bridge in the first place."

"Zuko's campfire story sucks," Toph declared. "All in favor that he never tells another one?"

There was a chorus of "ayes".

"All opposed?"

Zuko stood up. "Hey, well, nuts to you too!" He stalked off back into the beach house.

Sokka's stomach rumbled. "Mmm. I could go for some nuts."

Aang punched the air. "TO THE KITCHEN!"


	50. Black and White and Pink

**A/N: **_This chapter serves two masters. First, it's a play/riff on the first chapter of _TheBlueFoxtrot A Samba_'s "Warehouse of Imaginings" short story series. If you're into great Avatar fic, I suggest you check it out. Second, it's practice in first person voice for a longer fic I'm currently starting work on. _

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**Black and White and Pink**

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* * *

I'm a good person, really!

I know everyone looks at me and they don't see Ty Lee. They see Azula's Friend. Which is sort of right but isn't fair because that's not the whole story.

I'm not trying to rewrite history or anything. Being Azula's friend really _was_ nice, sometimes. She let me beat up boys if they got handsy, kept my parents from betrothing me to a stranger. I saw so many amazing places traveling with Azula, met lots of cute boys and interesting people-

_and hurt them_

-and got to spend time with Mai again. But, y'know? It wasn't worth it. She made me do a bad thing and I'll never ever forgive her for that.

Zu... um, the Fire Lord says that we all need to be about peace and love now. It sounds super, especially when the Avatar repeats it. I know being kind to other people really makes them happy. The way their aura brightens up is just the most amazingest thing. When I was in the circus, I used to get dizzy seeing that crowd's light flicker and glow as I made them forget about the war for a little while with my show. Only now I'm supposed to love everybody; including my enemies, which these days is pretty much just Azula.

Only I don't want to ever see Azula again, let alone love her. I ran away from her so I could be happy again. I used to be happy around Azula but that changed.

Did you know she _laughed_ about what her father did to Zuko? If my father did something like to one of my sisters, I wouldn't be happy. I'd be sick and sad and angry all at once.

Azula was _happy_.

Azula went on and on about watching half of Zuko's face melt off, like it was just the funniest joke ever. She even made us call her by her new, full title just to hear the sound of it: crown princess.

Azula is a bad person.

The first time in a million years that I ever disobeyed Azula, she set my safety net on fire and let a bunch of wild animals loose to terrorize my circus. A few trainers got hurt. A lot of the animals died.

The second time I disobeyed Azula, she threw me in prison and stuck me in a cell with the Kyoshi Warriors. I'm pretty sure they were supposed to kill me and Mai. They might have, too, if they weren't good people. Azula probably thought they'd hurt us out of revenge because that's what she'd do to somebody who beat her.

That sort of person can't be forgiven.

Z... the Fire Lord wants to, though. He thinks Azula should be healed. Maybe the Avatar is right that Azula will be a good person if she gets better, now that people are there to love and support her. Maybe she'll want to be a real friend to me one day.

But I don't think so.

I know her father didn't raise her right but her mother was a nice lady. _Both_ of my parents raised me to be a proper lady but I chose not to be one. Azula could have chosen not to be a bad person, right? So why didn't she? Maybe because she liked being wicked.

You know what Azula asked me when she learned I was taking dim mak lessons? If you could chi block someone to death. Who asks that! I told her no. Which totally wasn't a lie, since I hadn't learned that move yet.

It makes me feel gross inside when I think about what Azula would have ordered me to do if she'd known what I could do with a few finger pokes. Because when you mess with people's chi, if you're super extra talented like me you can do some serious damage if you want; like cripple them, or make their heart explode after ten thousand beats, or mess up their brain so bad that they start hallucinating their worst fears and go permanently insane.

Y'know. Stuff like that.

. . .

I'm a good person.

I know I did a bad thing. I'll never do it again, I swear! I won't even teach the Kyoshi Warriors those moves and I promised them in prison that I'd teach them _everything_.

I did a bad thing for a good reason. A lot of people saw Azula for the bad person she was by the end. Even the Dai Li! The Fire Lord might not have even won that agni kai! And the Avatar seems like a really nice boy. He'd have been sad if his girlfriend had died. Mai would never have gotten over Zuko either.

I saved both their lives because of the bad thing I did. So... does that mean I still did a bad thing? Really, doesn't that sort of make it a good thing I did?

Huh.

I really _am_ a good person.


	51. Cultural Exchange

**A/N: **It's genderswap time again! This round we have fem!Aang, or 'Aanjing'.

* * *

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**Cultural Exchange**

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* * *

"Katara, what's the best way to get fresh blood out of cotton bedding?"

All eyes turn towards Aanjing, then drop to the balled up sheets she's holding in her arms. Instantly the kitchen is so quiet that the songbirds of the Inner Ring seem to thunder with each warble.

Sokka asks, "Whyyyyy?"

"Menarche. So, about the bl-"

Katara springs out of her chair and throws her arms around the younger girl, bewildering her. "Oh, Aanjing! What wonderful news!"

"What's men-ar-che?" Toph asks Sokka.

"Um, Katara can field that one."

"It means," Katara, flush with pride, declares, "that I'm going to cook up a special dinner tonight in honor of Aanjing officially becoming a woman!"

Toph lazily twirls a finger. "Whoopty do."

Keeping a close eye on her friend, the last airbender carefully asks, "And I wasn't before... why? You _do_ know I have my arrow, right?"

"Aanjing!" Katara gasps. "You don't need to feel ashamed. A woman's first course is a natural, wonderful thing."

Aanjing stares back at her for a long moment, then relaxes. "This is a Water Tribe thing, isn't it? Like how you yell at me if I don't wear that whatsit when I swim."

"A top."

"That's it!" The Avatar smiles. "I guess your people, uh, throw parties for stuff like a girl's menarche and a boy's first ejaculation-"

Sokka spits out his tea.

"-but the Air Nomads don't. So can we not? Please?"

Katara wilts. "You don't want to do anything special?"

"Honestly? I just want clean bed sheets and some ginger tea for the cramps."

"Cheer up," Sokka tells his sister. "You can always cook a special dinner for Aanjing's birthday party."

"...yeah! You're right, Sokka!"

_'Birthday party?'_ the Avatar mouths to herself, before deciding to stay silent. She'd crushed enough of Katara's dreams for one morning.


	52. Duketara

**Duketara**

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* * *

The Duke didn't really remember his own mother. It'd been so long since the Fire Nation had taken his parents, it felt like the Freedom Fighters were the only family he'd ever had. The Fire Nation had taken them, too, in the end; first Sneers, then their forest. Jet had sent them all away to carry on the fight. It'd be too dangerous to stay in one place anymore after the dam. There'd been new friends later, like Haru and Teo, but he never felt that same sense of family again.

Except around her.

She was so strange, with her tanned skinned and blue clothes, but being around Katara made The Duke's chest ache. There was something about the tone of her voice that made him remember an... impression; of soothing words, of hugs, of a palm resting atop his head. That first night she showed off what waterbending she knew - pretty little, as he'd eventually realize in retrospect - but she let him touch her hands as she gently stirred water in a bowl. Her fingertips had been cold. For the rest of his life, The Duke wondered if his own mother's hands had really felt the same way or if he just wished they did.

After the dam, no one talked about the Avatar or his friends. It wasn't a rule or nothing. You just weren't supposed to. The Duke couldn't help but think of her, however, but he still kept quiet. It wasn't until it was him and Pipsqueak got recruited for the Black Sun invasion that he felt it was okay to say her name out loud. When he saw her again for the first time she was older and, if you squinted, carried herself a little like Jet. The Duke lost a piece of his heart to her that day, because here was someone who combined the two people in life that he'd most loved. He felt envious of the Avatar's earthbending teacher. Here was a kid not much older than him and _she_ got to travel everywhere with the prettiest girl in the world.

The weeks afterward at the Western Air Temple were hard. Even with his new friends, he missed Pipsqueak. Katara watched out for him; made sure he ate, washed up, slept, asked him how he was feeling. She even hugged him - twice!

But the Fire Nation took that away, as always.

He didn't see Katara until after the war was over, and then only briefly. It was surreal being in the Fire Lord's home. Not only was it huuuuge, the Fire Lord had invited them as guests. The Duke wished more of his family than Pipsqueak could have been there to see the war end. Jet wouldn't have liked it one bit, but The Duke bet he wouldn't have caused any big trouble if he got to see Katara again.


	53. First Date

_**A/N:**_ _I recently ran a genderswap meme on my livejournal. This one is for Omoni, who requested a look into how one of the canon couples would look genderswapped. In this case, it's Maiko._

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**First Date**

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* * *

Princess Zuan tried not to fidget in her formal silk dress and heavy paints. She was only ever really comfortable in armor, feeling nude without its tightness and dependable weight, but tradition dictated royalty dressed in an intricate ceremonial style for betrothal interviews. Zuan absentmindedly scratched at her scalp, irritated by pollen from the fire lilies woven into her hair, but froze when Father threw her a sharp look. He, like her, didn't want to have to sit through these tedious, unending interviews any longer than was necessary. Needing her hair fixed back up by the maids was a delay to be avoided.

Inwardly, Zuan railed against the unfairness of it all. She'd barely been back in the Fire Nation a month and already her father was looking to marry her off to the most politically advantageous candidate. It was true that people of her station didn't have the advantage of love matches but there was something so _mercenary _about the process. The only time she really got to know her suitors as people was in their five minute scripted walk through the royal gardens, and even then Li and Lo had stressed that she should try to trip them up with politically tricky questions to see if there was a brain behind any of the handsome faces she met.

At least Father had sent off Azula and their friends off to Ember Island for the weekend. Zuan could just imagine the colorful jibes her younger sister would make at her current appearance.

_Just you wait, _the crown princess thought._ In a little while, it'll be YOU being married off to some cabinet minister's idiot son, Azula._

Such was the depth of Zuan's inward ruminations that she blanked out on the introductions to the day's latest candidate, only to snap awake at the tail end of the announcement, "...governor of Omashu, and his son Mao."

While the boy's father made empty conversation over the ongoing industrialization of Omashu and the minor but vital role Mao was playing in managing a tank axle factory, Zuan studied her would-be suitor. She could almost imagine that sitting across from her was the most lifelike mannequin she had ever seen. It was two heads taller than her, with long, shiny black hair that contrasted sharply with its ivory skin. Whoever had designed the thing had paid the utmost attention to even the smallest detail. It really was quite impressive.

Oh, and if you stared it long enough, you might notice the mannequin could mime breathing shallowly. That was a neat trick. Maybe it could blink too.

(Mao never did for as long as she watched him that day.)

Zuan had gone through enough of these meetings so far that weekend to sleepwalk through the questions she was supposed to ask Governor What's-His-Name about his son and his family history. Eventually it came time for her and Mao to take their 'private' walk.

As with her other suitors, Zuan disregarded everyone's advice and walked with the boy to her left. Despite the insistence of some of her fashion advisors, Zuan left her scar bare. Covering it up with flesh-toned paint would only make her look like a fool. How her suitors reacted to the sight of it helped screen out which of _them _were the fools. Most boys weren't willing to look a scarred girl in the face, often fixating on a point over her shoulder when they sat across from each other at the table. During their walks, a few had even maneuvered themselves around to her right. It was disheartening and maddening at the same time, but Zuan hadn't been surprised. At least they didn't get handsy with her like the customers at uncle's teashop, who'd decided that she was a loose woman deserving no respect because she had 'obviously' been defiled and burnt by a Fire Nation soldier.

Mao had unflinchingly looked her in the eye, so at least he had that going for him.

Actually, it was all he had going for him. Whatever questions she asked him were invariable answered in a flat, colorless tone:

"I guess."

"Yeah."

"Whatever."

Irritated with his taciturn manner on top of a day and a half of these pointless candidate interviews - (which were, ancestors and spirits preserve her, only the first step in what could easily be a multi-year process!) - Zuan finally snapped, "I bet you can't say more than two words at once."

"You win."

The flower in her right ear wilted from a sudden heat wave. "It's obvious you don't want to be here any more than I do, so why you'd waste my time by coming?"

"Ordered to."

"By who? Your parents?"

He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"So you do everything your parents tell you? Don't you have the _balls_ - " the word slipped out in an instant, too fast to snatch back, and Princess Zuan knew the chaperons hovering at the garden's edge would relay that breach of decorum to her father " - to make your own decisions?"

"I don't." They were standing amid green splendor, with baby turtle-ducks babbling in a nearby pond and buttermoths ghosting along on the summer's breeze. Mao reached out and laid a finger on her scar. Zuan reflexively jerked back but his finger stuck to its target, tracing the borderline where hard scar tissue melted into pliable flesh. "You don't."

Zuan's heart drummed against the inside of her ribcage. She slapped his hand away, face flushing with several shades of outrage. _Asshole!_ "I hunted down the Avatar and helped conquer Ba Sing Se because I *chose* to. I could have given up but I didn't. Is there anything _you_ can do besides act like a smug, self-satisfied stoic?"

Mao made a show of considering that question by curling a finger under his strong chin. Finally, he said, "I can actually throw knives pretty well."

"Bwah?"

"See that big apple way up there?" Zuan has too much battlefield experience to blindly follow his finger towards the spot it was pointing, so she kept watching Mao himself as a small knife slid out of his sleeve and fell into his palm. The air around Zuan's fists churned with invisible heat, ready to ignite instantly for self-defense, but, instead of her, Mao's knife struck out at the offending fruit tree.

A speared apple plopped down onto the freshly cut grass. Mao walked over and picked it up. He carved the soft flesh into quarters, then popped one into his mouth to chew.

Zuan stared back at him.

"If you want some," he said lethargically between bites, "you'll have to get your own apple."

Zuan wordlessly reached up and pulled something out of the tarantula-rat's nest that was her hair. Loose raven locks and lilies tumbled down onto her shoulders. Zuan's right hand lashed out.

Her concealed knife twanged audibly as it buried itself into the innocent tree. A newly harvested apple fell and bonked Mao on the head, then rolled to a stop at his feet. Mao had stopped chewing. He stared at the apple, then looked back at her. Zuan couldn't help but smirk at the faint surprise coloring his features. A little emotion, she decided, looked good on him.

After a few moments, she blushed with self-conciousness. "I'm, uh, not... the best... firebender. So I, um, train with knives. I'm not strong enough to be a sword-fighter so... yeah..."

The buzz of insects filled the silence.

"I - I was bored," Mao confessed. "Royal Academy for Boys. Not much to do there."

"Yeah?"

He nodded.

Someone cleared their throat. Zuan and Mao both turned to find one of the royal household's servants standing there, bowing deeply. "Princess, his majesty wishes to remind you that your five minutes are up. The next interview will begin shortly."

With that, the bowing servant backed away.

Zuan looked to Mao and was disappointed to see the cracks in his demeanor had resealed themselves. Both his knife and half-eaten apple were nowhere in sight. Instead he blankly offered Zuan her own apple.

"Princess Zuan," he said, bowing slightly. She took the apple from him, body buzzing with lightning for the first time ever as their fingers briefly touched.

And then he was walking away.

Zuan bit into her apple as she watched Mao go. Juice ran down her chin, smearing her carefully applied make-up. She could have honestly cared less about making her father wait while she had herself touched up.


	54. Big Sister On Campus

**_A/N:_**_ I recently ran a genderswap meme on my livejournal. This one is for attackfish, who requested a fic about how girl!Zuko and Azula would interact as sisters._

* * *

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**BSOC: Big Sister On Campus**

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* * *

Azula spotted them as soon as they entered the Royal Academy's library. Which wasn't exactly a notable achievement; Zuan banged down the path from the entrance with all the grace of an earthbender, and her sister's hangers-on were a rolling avalanche of giggles.

"Hey Azula!" her sister called out, earning a reproachful glare from the on-duty librarian. "The girls and I are heading down to the beach to play some kuai ball. Want to come?"

"Keep it down, dum-dum," Azula hissed. "People are trying to study in here."

Zuan looked around the empty library.

"Azula," her sister said, voice full of self-righteous patience, "there's more to life than dusty old books. You've been here for four months already. Don't you think it's time you started making some friends?"

She ignored her sister's pleading look, focusing instead on adding to her handwritten notations. "I'll get right on that, Zuzu."

The hangers-on tittered. One of them overtly whispered, "She has a nickname for you! That's so cute!"

Zuan said, "Lihn's sister Ty Lee is going to be there. She's in your year. Have you two met yet?"

Azula felt a hot flush creep up the nape of her neck. She hated feeling this small. Her older sister never made her feel this way back home. Here at the Academy, there was no one to watch out for her. The only people who really appreciated her were her teachers and firebending instructors. The girls who'd approached were just second-rate leeches, the ones not good enough to make the cut for Zuan's little gang of sycophants. Azula just _knew _they were settling for the second princess available.

Bristling, Azula looked up. "Can't you see I'm trying to _read_?"

Sadness passed across Zuan's eyes. It made Azula feel angry, like she'd failed some sort of test. "Sorry. If you change your mind, we'll be down at the black sands, okay?"

Later, when she was alone in her dorm room, Azula re-read the letters her parents had sent her and tried to imagine how the palace would look like now that early winter was settling in. Such thoughts made her chest ache. She missed Dad. She even missed Mom. How pathetic was that?

It wasn't _fair_. Her first year at the Academy wasn't supposed to be like this. All anyone cared about was Zuan this and Zuan that. The girls laughed and smiled at everything Zuzu said and the idiot ate it all up, not realizing they only hung around her loser self because she was Prince Ozai's heir. Azula wouldn't have let herself be abused that way.

Outside, Zuan and her lackeys were laughing as they walked out the gates on the road to the beach. Azula slammed her window shut and buried her head under her pillow.


	55. Opposite World

**A/N:** Two drabbles this update! Both are set in my stab at an AtLA Mirror Universe.

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**Opposite World**

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* * *

_In another world, the sun rises in the west..._

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. . .

* * *

Poppy loved the indigenous charms of Ember Island: colorfully plumaged birds, red tiled roofs, and such unfailingly polite natives. It made the ideal place to winter, especially since only the cream of the Earth Kingdom's nobility could afford beachfront property. If only her daughter realized wintering abroad wasn't a vacation.

"But you said I could visit the memorial shrine!"

"Young lady," Lao warned, "after that woeful sandbending demonstration for the Pangs last night, the only thing you'll be doing today is training with your teachers."

"But Dad-!"

Poppy gently cut off her daughter. "It's for your own good, Toph. The war bison skeletons will still be there tomorrow."

After their daughter left to change into her workout clothes, Poppy looked to her husband. "Do you worry we're pushing her too hard?"

"Toph is hardly a fragile lotus. All her teachers agree she'll be the greatest earthbender in the world soon."

_She's twelve_, Poppy didn't say.

Lao continued, "She'll thank us one day, after she debuts at court. Emperor Chin does not tolerate weakness."

That Poppy couldn't argue with.

* * *

. . .

* * *

The ice crystals plastered to Zuko's heavy coat sublimed to nothingness. He nodded thanks to the elderly waterbender, Pakku, and then joined Uncle beside the roundhouse's fire.

"Thank you for the rescue," Uncle said, "as well as the tea!"

Outside, the storm continued to howl.

"We were glad to help," said the village's chieftain. Zuko couldn't help staring at her and not because of the white hair. Even knowing the Northern Water Tribe's reputation for egalitarianism and meritocracy, it was still faintly shocking to see such deference to youth. Even eighty-five years after the Earth Navy had smashed their nation for raiding Zuko's own, the surviving villages still maintained their traditional culture. It was heartening even if they'd had it easy, having been attacked openly.

Yue asked, "What brings a Fire Sage and a Novice to our land?"

"I'm escorting my nephew on his pilgrimage."

"I'm looking for the Avatar." Now it was Yue's turn to be surprised. "I must speak with him."

Yue spoke carefully, "I'm unfamiliar with your theocracy's beliefs, but we hold that people cannot be held responsible for the actions of their ancestors."

Uncle eyed him, so Zuko held his tongue. Chief Yue wouldn't understand. No outsider could. It wasn't about the genocidal war with the Air Nomads during their horde's brutal invasion a century ago. It was about the new invasion. Earth Kingdomers infiltrating their ports, demanding special rights for their citizens abroad, and his father's shameful capitulation to the foreigners.

The Avatar alone had the moral authority to force the Earth Emperor to renegotiate the treaties. If Zuko couldn't find the last airbender, then the alternatives were assimilation or...

_No._The Fire Nation could never again abandon its basic tenant of pacifism, not even to save itself. Not after the shameful events of one hundred years ago.

"It's a matter of honor," explained Zuko. It was a truth.


	56. The Boy from Babel

**A/N:** This was written for the 50th round of the Avatar Spirit forum's DrabbleDrabbleDrabble contest. It was a response to the "Language Barrier" prompt. The requirements were as follows:

_Write a piece based on the premise that all four nations speak different languages from each other, perhaps even more than one for the bigger and/or more spread out nations. This can be either an AU, a distant past, or distant future fic. Naturally, you're allowed to have certain people adept in more than one language._

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**THE BOY FROM BABEL**

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* * *

"Ask them where they're hiding the Avatar. He should be about her age." Zuko pointed to an elderly woman with a weatherworn face. The savages, unable to understand his civilized manner of speech, flinched collectively at the cutting gesture. They chittered and clicked nervously amongst themselves while Lt. Jee translated Zuko's question for them. Like most career navy men of his generation, Jee had picked up a working knowledge of the Winter Folk's speech during the latter Endless Noon campaigns.

Before Jee had a chance to relay the villagers' answer, the idiot native boy charged again. Most conveniently for them both, violence needed no translation. They traded points in a brisk exchange but, before Zuko could get his conclusion across to the inept boy warrior, an outsider interjected himself into the argument in a way that simply knocked Zuko head over heels.

"བཀྲ་ཤིས་བདེ་ལེགས, Sokka! བཀྲ- er, um, Ainngai, Sokka. Ainngai, Katara!" The saffron-robed newcomer turned and, using _airbending_, blasted Zuko's translator and escorts into the snow. Zuko managed to hold his ground. His wherewithal seemed to impress the Autumnlander. "Good-morrow, O good Sir! Come you now to seeke me out, thy Avatar?"

The Winter Folk stared on uncomprehending, expression as blank as the snow fields of the Winterland itself.

Zuko himself blinked, shocked to be fluently addressed not just in the Summer Folk's speech but in the formal style maintained by the nobility. It'd been almost three years since Zuko himself had spoken it outside of snatches of conversation with Uncle, who defaulted to the peasants' dialect because of his long soldiering career. Zuko himself both dreamt and thought in that coarse language now, despite his best effort to resist the internal shift.

Unwilling to address a foreigner in the manner of honored nobility, Zuko spoke to the Avatar as he would Jee and any other peasant; in the Summerland vernacular. "I've spent years preparing for this encounter. Training. Meditating. And you're just a - a CHILD!"

The Avatar huffed. "Well flamey-o to you too, Hotman."

"I... what?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

Suki didn't have the Avatar's innate gift of tongues. The purity of Kyoshinese was her birthright; clearly a happier one than the Conqueror's Chinish that had long ago infected the mainland, or even the Ice Men's strange speech. Still, she had picked up some harsh Chinish from the drunken sailors she and her warriors policed at the docks, and everyone on Kyoshi Island knew using Chinish simply compounded any insult, so she'd shared her choicest picks of sailors' curses with the southern lout when he disrespected her and her traditions. That meant when he came back to her dojo for another beating, Suki didn't have much left to say to him.

"What?" she snapped.

Rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze, the outsider clambered down onto his knees. Suki, taken aback by this turnaround, watched silently as he smoothed out a scrap of paper onto the floor. Inked on it was a nonsensical series of bent lines and geometric shapes.

The Ice Man sounded out in rough Kyoshinese, "Ahy am sor-ee, Sookie-sama. Ahy... uh-pol-uh-jahyz... fer mahy rood-nes. Ahy woo'd bee... on-erd... if yuh woo'd... teech mee."

"Did the Avatar put you up to this? Because somehow I doubt you figured out how to say that yourself." The note of suspicion in her voice caught his eye. When their gazes now at last met, she saw the Ice Man wore his shame plainly. Conscience nagging her, Suki crossed her arms. "I know you don't understand this but we don't normally teach outsiders, let alone boys."

Deflated, he kept staring at her.

"Kyoshi's spleen," Suki muttered under her breath. "I hope you can figure out how to put on this uniform without instruction, because I'm not demonstrating. You're not _that_ pretty." Suki nodded and gestured for him to stand. He sprang up, smiling, and Suki found she couldn't help but return the sunny expression.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Suekee?"

"Suki."

"Sukeeey?"

"Suki. _Suki_."

"Su-ki?"

A smile cracked her painted face. "Hai!"

"SUKI!"

"Hai! Hai!"

Sokka felt goofily good at finally getting it right. He tapped his chest. "MY. NAME. IS. SOKKA."

"Izsoakah?"

"Sokka. 'SOK-KA'."

"Saahkaah," the Kyoshi Warrior said slowly.

"Hey! See? Now you're getting it! Isn't that great?"

Suki frowned. "Anata no ossharu koto ga wakarimasen."

"What? Um no, no. Sor- Wait. Hold on." He glanced at the pocket card of phrases Aang had helped him write. All the Kyoshinese had been transliterated in the Water Tribe's syllabary. He quickly found the needed response. "Goh-men nah-sigh."

Sokka looked to Suki, who nodded in acceptance of the apology and then waited for him to speak.

He again pointed to himself. "Sok-ka."

"...Saah-ka?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

Katara's heart went out to the canyon guide. She wouldn't want to be caught in a shouting between two tribes over... something. It seemed even the guide was confused. Katara was used to everyone speaking Chinish as a first or second language and had even been taught its basics by Gran-Gran because it was the language of traders, but here that knowledge was of no use.

"Aang," she started to ask, keeping to Chinish since she needed the practice, "what are they talking about?"

"Dunno."

"What? Why?"

Aang explained, "I can only understand the languages my past lives have learned, or that I've picked up myself. I don't know these obscure ones."

Someone in the crowd, Katara didn't see who, threw a punch. The canyon guide hustled away as a fight broke out.

Sokka picked his nose. "Eh. No loss. It was just a big hole in the ground."

They started walking back towards Appa, leaving the feuding villagers behind.

"It's sad," Aang added, taking one last glance over his shoulder at the fight. "I know so many old languages nobody uses anymore, but I'd trade them all if I could help those people."

"Dead languages? Ooo." Sokka said, "Lay one on us, Aang."

Their friend was silent for a moment. Casually, he offered to Sokka, "J'aime bien ta soeur."

Her brother laughed. "You sound like a wood frog trying to talk."

"What'd you say, anyway?" Katara asked.

"I-it's just a pun that doesn't translate."

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Huh. Weird."

"Yeah?"

Aang squinted, surveying all the posters and banners in sight at the festival. "It's all in alphabetic script."

Sokka munched on his fire flakes. He spoke quietly, so that his Water Tribe accent wouldn't attract any ears, in the halting Firespeak Aang had pounded into him and Katara over the past few weeks, "It's the Fire Nation. What else would you expect them to use? Fifty bajillion characters like the Earth Kingdom?"

"A hundred years ago-"

"Shhhhh!" Katara hissed.

"-they _did_," Aang continued, softer now. "Whenever I visited Kuzon, all the _Summerland_ signs," he emphasized that nation's proper name, which his friends tended to thoughtlessly ignore in favor of the Water Tribe's own label for it, 'Fire Nation', "were written both ways: new-style alphabet and classical characters. The schools were different. Kuzon's parents couldn't even read his school books since they used the new system." He brightened up at the memory. "That's how I learned to read Scientific Reform Summerish. Kuzon taught me his alphabet and I taught him mine."

Katara said, "Maybe they don't use it anymore because the new way is easier?"

"Well, Kuzon's parents _said_ it was supposed to be easier to learn and to use on a printing pressing. Earthbenders can reshape their stoneblock prints super fast but firebenders have to set type by hand." He added after a moment's thought, "A printing press is this thing that copies books really fast."

Katara shot him _that_ look. Sokka said, "Everyone knows what a printing press is, airhead."

Behind his mask, Aang grinned and chuckled nervously. "Sorry."

They resumed exploring the festival. While Sokka drifted off to get more fire flakes, Katara glanced at Aang and asked, "So what exactly did Kuzon study?"

"The usual stuff. History. Poetry. Math."

Katara nodded. "I guess that's what it would be." She looked around the crowded marketplace, at the happy families and people on dates. "It's weird to think they're so... normal."

"There _was_ one weird thing about Kuzon's books."

"Yeah?"

"When we read it out loud to his parents, they said his history book was all wrong."

* * *

. . .

* * *

"G'day, mate!" He leaned against the table, grinning confidently. "Sokka. Southern Water Tribe."

Yue smiled, and not entirely because diplomacy demanded politeness. Father had told her that they and the Southerners were divided by a common language, more so now than ever because of the last few decades of isolation. He'd neglected to mention how smooth they sounded. Yue had never heard anything like it. "Very nice to meet you."

"So, uh, you're a princess! Y'know, back Down Under, I'm kinda like a prince myself!"

His sister piped up. "Ha! Prince of what?"

"A lot of things!" he snapped back at her. "Don't hassle me! I'm trying to have a bit of a chinwag here!"

"My apologies, Prince Sokka." His younger sister cut a curt bow. Such disrespect for one's elder rankled Yue but she let it pass without giving any outward reaction. Perhaps the ways of Southerners were simply as coarse as their manner of speaking was charming.

Sokka turned back towards Yue. "So. I'm thinking you could give this bloke a fair go and we could go veg together."

"'Go veg together'?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

"I discoueryed a librarie hidden in the earth's rootes. I ripped through scroule after scroule, to spy for ancient morselles writ in ancient tongues. Till, hark, Zhao lookes vpon a mappe and recall'd from his Naval studies certaine sacred words of the barbarous Winter Folke; 'moone' and 'ocean'. I knew I had beene blessed and now spyed upon a special gift. Much worthy toile it tooke to translate the other words within. Tis knowledge of the home of Spirits and how they wold be kill'd." Admiral Zhao clenched a fist even as Iroh's expression turned to one of horror. "My fixed destiny is the Doome of both alike."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Yue knelt on the grass, its greenness lost in colorless void that the world had become. A short distance away General Iroh cradled the Moon Spirit's corpse in his hands.

"There's no hope now," she whispered, eyes stinging with tears. "It's over."

**"No."**

Everyone looked up.

To Yue, the Avatar's declaration had been spoken in the language of her people.

To Katara and Sokka, it had also been said in Kyoshinese and Chinish and Firespeak all at once.

To Iroh, it had been issued in more tongues still: the insular manner of Ba Sing Se, the refined Sommer Folke style, the warm tenor of the Sun Warriors, the ecclesiastical prayers mouthed by the Summer Sages, and the broken Autumnlandish his nephew had doggedly acquired from crumbling texts.

Regardless of who heard it, the Avatar's meaning was perfectly clear.

**"It's not over."**


	57. With Apologies to Eduardo de Valfierno

.

**With Apologies to Eduardo de Valfierno**

.

* * *

Ro's _Three Buttermoths and Rice Grain_ was a triumph of the late Yi Ming Era, one of the few surviving pieces of the rural-themed art that dominated the Upper Ring's tastes as the nobility took to regularly visiting the countryside following the construction of the monorail system. Most other examples of Ro's bold experimentation with Water Tribe pigments had been lost during the Great Peasant Rebellion, stolen by looters or burnt by revolutionaries. _Three Buttermoths and Rice Grain_ had hung proudly in the Imperial Gallery for over three centuries.

Until two months ago, when he stole it.

It'd been the crowning achievement of his career before the Dai Li had caught up with him. Now the thief sat chained to a chair, underground... somewhere... with only one question between him and a shallow grave.

"Which one is real?"

Before him were four copies of _Three Buttermoths and Rice Grain_ hanging on pillars of bent earth. Despite his split lip, the thief felt like smiling. There was no chance of the Dai Li having dismissed any of them as frauds, his craftsmanship was perfect, meaning they'd only found three of the seven forgeries he had fenced in place of the original. These supposedly invincible policemen had shortcomings.

He was better then them. Not that that was ever in doubt.

"Answer the question!"

The chained thief shrugged as best as he was able. "If you can't appreciate the difference, what's it matter to you?"

The Dai Li agent backhanded him. Behind the thief, another agent grabbed hold of his hair and forced his head up. The first agent drew his hand back for another blow.

"That's enough for now," said a new voice.

From the left, out of the interrogation chamber's darkness, a bearded man appeared. The thief thrilled with terror. The Grand Secretariat himself, here? For him?

"Clever," said the Grand Secretariat. "Stealing the original for yourself while selling off copies. All your marks thought they owned a genuine Ro. Did you paint the forgeries before or after?"

"Before."

"From memory."

"That's right."

"Impressive, coming from a Middle Ring bookkeeper."

"It's impressive for _anyone_."

The Grand Secretariat nodded. "We've followed your career with interest, up until it ended today." He hesitated. "Do you love Ba Sing Se?"

The thief scowled. Didn't they care about his masterpiece?

"Do you love Ba Sing Se?" The Grand Secretariat gestured to the forgeries. "Because someone who didn't couldn't appreciate Ro's value enough to craft these. Your skills in subterfuge and infiltration are invaluable. But let me be more precise: do you love Ba Sing Se more to die for it or to live for it?"

"What's the difference?"

"You can join the Penal Legions to save our city's heritage, or you can join the Dai Li and do the same."

"That's not much of a choice," the thief scoffed.

"Your third option is summary execution."

"Well, when you put it like _that_..."

The guards undid his chains.

"Welcome to the Dai Li, Agent Long Feng."

The former thief smiled. "Glad to be here, _sir_."


	58. 12 Clichéd Korra Fanfic Plots

**A/N:** Although _The Legend of Korra_ doesn't premier until next year, and we know next to nothing about it, I think certain plots will probably be pretty common for its fandom's fic. Here's twelve guesses at what those will be. Let's see which one's come true.

* * *

.

**12 Clichéd Korra Fanfic Plots**

.

* * *

**Shipping Wars: The Next Generation, Pt. 1: Zutara and Taang 4EVAH**

"Hiya, Twinkletoes!"

"My name's Korra."

"What~ever. I'm Tenzin Bei Fong and despite having a completely different mother and inheriting a wildly different culture heritage from her, I'm exactly the same as Tenzin in canon. Only my eyes are green! And I call you funny names. Also, I might be blind."

"O...kay?"

"Now why don't you take a seat and I'll regale you with the story of how my parents came together and how my dad's first girlfriend also met the firey love of her life. You'll get a kick out of it. There's lots of opposites attracting."

"But this is a _Legend of Korra _fanfic. Isn't it supposed to star, y'know, me?"

"Nah, you're just a framing device."

"Drat."

* * *

.

**Shipping Wars: The Next Generation, Pt. 2: Zutara By Another Mother (um, Father)**

"Aang?"

"Yes, my sweet?"

"Now that I've literally just now developed Tenzin's zygote inside my womb, I have something to confess. The truth is that I've always considered you as a little brother and the thought of kissing you, let alone of marrying and bedding you, fills me with revulsion and disgust. I've always loved Zuko, and he me, so we're both getting divorces and Zuko will be the one raising your son. I promise to give you custody every third weekend but, FYI, Tenzin's only going to address you as 'Mister Sperm Donor'."

"Gosh, Katara, I'd have thought you would have told me how you really felt _years ago, _BEFORE YOU MARRIED ME, considering how your characterization has always been that of a strong-willed individual who always stands up for what she thinks is right regardless of the consequences."

"Sorry, Aang. If I had, then the author would've turned you into a stalker rapist to ensure that I'd still be Tenzin's mother, thus ensuring that Zutara could plausibly exist in _Legend of Korra's _canon continuity."

"Wow. I guess everything was for the best, then."

"Yup. Goodbye forever!"

_(door slam)_

"I wonder what Toph's up to..."

* * *

.

**Shipping Wars: The Next Generation, Pt. 3: Zukaang MPreg**

"Aang, what're you doing with a baby?"

"Zuko, remember that bejeweled egg in the Sun Warriors' Temple? Well it turns out that by proving our worth to Ran and Shao, it would eventually hatch with our manlove baby! Isn't he the cutest? I'm going to name him Tenzin."

"Huh. Maybe we should tell the TyZula people about that plot device."

* * *

.

**Shipping Wars: The Next Generation, Pt. 4: Catch-all Solutions**

"What's up, Sifu Tenzin?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm just doing what I always do on a lazy Friday afternoon: trying to figure out who my biological parents are."

"I thought that was pretty clearly established."

"No no no. You'd be surprised how many secret love children my parent's generation had. None of us offspring could date each other because we didn't know who was half-siblings with whom. All our parents were having affairs. It was pretty torrid."

"Wow!"

"I know. Why do you think I moved all the way out to Republic City? Risk-free gene pool."

"But at least you know that Aang had to be your father. You're an airbender and all."

"That's true. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless my grandmother Kya... was secretly an airbender!"

___(cue expository flashback story)_

"My grandfather Hakoda is also a possibility."

_(cue expository flashback story)_

"And I can't rule out that my Great Gran-Gran was one either."

_(cue expository flashback story)_

"Although... if my grandfather's best friend Bato was having a secret affair with my grandmother, then _he_-"

"Y'know what, Sifu? Forget I asked."

* * *

.

**Shipping Wars: The Next Generation, Pt. 5: Revenge of the Kataangers**

"You wanted to see me, sifu?"

"Korra, it's high time I extolled at length about the perfect truest pure wuv between my parents."

"Gosh, that sounds great, but remind me who's name is in the title of this show?"

"Sorry, you're still just a framing device. If we have enough time, though, I'll introduce you to the reincarnation of my mother. He'll be your soul mate and you'll fall in love with each other at first sight."

"[EXPLETIVE DELETED]ing shippers."

* * *

.

**Shipping Wars: The Next Generation, Pt. 6: Korra and Tenzin; Or, Regarding Parent-Teacher Intercourse**

"Finally! No more proxy shipping wars! It's all about ME now! Hahahaha!"

"So, Korra, do you want to shag now or shag later?"

"Aren't you like a million years older than me, sifu? And my quasi-son?"

"That never stopped Irko or Piandakka shippers."

"Fair point."

* * *

.

**Shipping Wars: The Next Generation, Pt. 7: Korra and Yue (yes, it has lots of fanart already)**

"We're the best crackship ever, aren't we?"

"Shut up and give me somma dat moon dust, baby!"

* * *

.

**Revenge of the Gen Crossover Fic**

"Hi, I'm Avatar Korra."

"Hi, I'm a character from the original series who's now elderly."

"Care for a touching character moment or two after you reminisce about the past?"

"Do I!"

* * *

.

**BAD END, Pt. 1: Revolutionary War**

"Comrades, with Avatar Korra killed in the Avatar State and all the airbenders finally exterminated, our glorious revolution can now safely purge the world of the filthy benders! Muggle Power! Huzzah!"

_(cue __L'Internationale__)  
_

* * *

.

**BAD END, Pt. 2: Imperial City**

"Earth... Fire... Air... Water...

"Long ago, before Sifu Katara taught me this introductory voiceover technique, Avatar Aang battled the ruthless firebenders to save the world. He failed. The Phoenix King burned down the Earth Kingdom and took the Avatar prisoner. Sixteen years ago, the Avatar finally died. Now it's all up to me, the new Avatar. Although I've mastered three elements, there are no more airbenders left to teach me. Despite that, I've come to Imperial City, the capital of the Fire Empire, to face the Phoenix King and free the world."

* * *

.

**BAD END, Pt. 3: Delayed Defrosting**

"Water... Earth... Fire... Air...

"Long ago, the ruthless Phoenix King burned down Ba Sing Se along with the rest of the Earth Kingdom. Nobody believes in the Avatar anymore. Hope seems impossible in this world, even to me. Seventy-five year have passed and my student Korra and I discovered the new Avatar, an airbender named Aang. Although his airbending skills are great, he still has a lot to learn before he's ready to save anyone. But I believe Aang can save the world.

"Oh, did I mention my husband's Zuko? Because he totally is. Just thought you should know."

* * *

.

**A Republic City Avatar in Firelord Ozai's Court**

"Ugh... my head. Drank one too many Kyoshi Island Iced Teas. Where am I? What's going on?"

"You tell us, spy! How'd you get in that iceberg? And why aren't you frozen?"

"Ignore my brother. He's an idiot. My name's Katara. This is Sokka. What's your name?"

"What."

"I asked what your name is."

"What?"

"Your name! The thing people call you!"

"WHAT?"

"Katara, I'm not sure who I should be more upset with for stealing my schtick. You or her."


	59. Uncle Zuko

.

**_A/N: _**_Just so there's no confusion, this fic is a "generation swap" AU. Iroh is the sixteen year old nephew, Zuko is the old man._

* * *

.

**Uncle Zuko**

.

* * *

"You two must not be from around here," the pretty healer said, her touch so gentle as she applied salve to his swollen face. Iroh felt feverish, and not just because of the poison in his veins. "We know better than to touch the white jade, much less make it into tea and drink it."

Iroh's blush was lost beneath his rash.

Uncle Zuko grumbled, "It's more that my husky excuse for a nephew loses his wits whenever pai-sho or tea is involved."

"H-Hey!"

"At least he didn't find a game board set up inside in a platypus-bear trap."

The healer giggled. Iroh hung his head in shame.

* * *

. . .

* * *

It's not that Iroh hated his uncle. Far from it. It was just there were times that Iroh had to remind himself that Uncle Zuko wasn't just a crotchety old frowny-face.

Like all the time.

Uncle never smiled and hated all the good things in life, like tea, pai-sho, and the ladies. If he spent less time polishing his swords and more time enjoying life's pleasures, Iroh knew Uncle would be a much happier man. He deserved that.

When Mother had burned and banished him, it was Uncle Zuko who'd taken him in. Despite the fact the fact his uncle was a subpar firebender for royalty, Iroh held him in high esteem as a warrior. Not even Mother crossed Uncle. He had, after all, killed the last dragon _with a sword._

The old man could do anything if he applied his will to a task. Which would have made his success with romancing women inspiring if he was actually ever intending to seduce them at all.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"We are much obliged by your hospitality, ma'am."

The matron blushed at Uncle. "Oh, it was no trouble. It was nice to cook for a strapping man again."

"Thank you?"

"Song, why don't you two enjoy the night air while we clean up?"

Outside, he and Song had an unspoken agreement to ignore what they'd just witnessed. It was nice, otherwise. They got to talking and, somehow, a little bit of the old man's magic had rubbed off on him. Song was already hiking up her skirt to show some ankle.

"So," Iroh said, sliding closer, "we're playing a game of Show Me Yours and I'll Show You Mine?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

By the time the village was out of sight, the handprint on Iroh's face had almost faded. Uncle Zuko, who'd clasped an arm around his shoulders, finished his rambling lecture on respecting women with, "Never give into piggishness, nephew. Allow yourself to walk that road and you will walk into the land of datelessness, which you can't leave because the through-lanes are one way."

"Yeah."

"At least her mother was friendly."

"Pfff. I'll bet."

"...Heh." Iroh scowled. "Is _that _what you think?"

It was then that something impossible happened.

Uncle smiled.

"There was only ever one woman for me, nephew."

They walked onwards.

"I wish I had someone like Aunt Mai."

"Give it time. And work on your smooth talk."

"I'm plenty smooth!"

"Sure you are."


	60. Dude Ty Lee

_**A/N:**_ _I ran a genderswap meme on my livejournal a while back. This one was for faxandu, who requested a look into a male Ty Lee and how being a dude would affect her relationships._

* * *

.

**Dude Ty Lee**

.

* * *

Tai Li is the only boy out of his family's seven children.

He would do anything not to feel special.

. . .

There are certain duties required of a noble family's scion, most of which Tai Li has singularly failed to uphold. His schooling is an uphill slog despite the many tutors his parents waste on him. The Royal Academy for Boys chips away at Tai Li's spirit. The ruthless competition its dorms breed is antithetical to his personality, and the influential boys his parents order him to make friends with quickly become enemies. Athleticism is the one areas he excels in, studying under the best dim mak specialists money can afford, but he lacks the bloodlust to make a proper Fire Nation soldier. His test scores are bad enough that, once he comes of age, even a very large bribe might not suffice to get him into a military academy.

Tai Li doesn't need to ask his parents if they think he's a failure of a man. He already knows it. Still, they pretend otherwise. They send him to interview with other families to court their daughters despite the handicap of his flighty, un-Fire-like personality. Few families ask for a second interview. None ask for a third.

Save for one.

They're both damaged goods. Him, because of who he is. Her, because of who she had once been betrothed to. But he and Mai can at least protect each other while they wait for... something.

It's not love, but at least they aren't alone anymore.


	61. Walkabout

_**A/N:**_ _I ran a genderswap meme on my livejournal a while back. This one was for Omoni, who requested a look into how one of the canon couples would look genderswapped. In this case, it's Sukka._

* * *

.

**Walkabout**

.

* * *

After it was all over, Sonna didn't have a home to go back to. Her first visit to the South Pole had been unbearable. Even the modest snow city of her childhood was nothing compared to the dazzling ice city Pakku's relief mission had constructed. The people that filled it were...

Well, the Northerners were jerkfaces, that was no big surprise, but when her father's men had come back it hadn't gotten much better. Nobody seemed to know what to make of peacetime, or of waterbenders being around, so everyone tried to cling to the old chores and tasks until they figured out something to do with all the new opportunities available. After fighting off an airship armada with Toph and foam-prone Kyoshi Warrior, washing dirty socks didn't rank high on the list of Sonna's priorities anymore. Home seemed small now, and not very homey.

And however much she tried to be happy for Gran-Gran and that... husband of hers... Sonna couldn't. It started to seem that her own life was going to play out the same way: running across the world to find happiness, only for the past to snatch you back up.

So Sonna left on the first sky-bison out of town.

She lied to pretty much everyone, calling it a training mission. Yeah, she did go to Master Piandao's estate, but that was only because it seemed like the best place to find herself. It only took a few days there to realize that her step-grandfather's comment about needing an chaperon was a joke, because it turned out Fat wasn't actually Piandao's _butler_. But it passed the time. Sonna didn't know what she wanted. She still couldn't think of herself as a warrior (those were men, a voice nagged at her) but there wasn't a whole lot of opportunities for female non-benders. Between fighting lessons, Master Piandao tutored her in calligraphy and literature.

It was nice, being in a place that didn't second-guess her choices, but after almost a year she got restless again. Sonna missed snow and ice. The eternal greenery of the Fire Nation was unnerving. Returning to the South Pole wasn't an option. Bad enough that she was seventeen and still not married, but Sonna wasn't going to let Gran-Gran guilt her into matchmaking sessions. She wasn't desperate or _that_ old, slush it all! Once she was twenty and officially a spinster, maybe she'd break down, but Sonna needed to find a home before she could start homemaking.

Kyoshi Island came next. She was friends with the Kyoshi Warriors and Ty Lee, and maybe being among like-minded women would help with her listlessness. Aang was too busy with treaty negotiations to spare his old pal a ride, and the Earth Kingdom had understandable issues about letting war balloons into their airspace, so Sonna ended up hopping ships along the Earth Kingdom coast. For the final leg of her journey, she ended up haggling with a young, red-haired Kyoshi fisherman about letting her catch a ride on his family boat. Sonna was forced to agree to help him net some elephant koi on the trip back to the island, but that wasn't so bad. She'd been hunting and fishing for years. It was actually nice to do it alongside a guy who didn't think that was weird for women to do men's work.

Besides, Suko had such nice blue eyes.


	62. Miscalculation

.

**Miscalculation**

.

* * *

Seeing Uncle tumbling backwards, his tubby chest engulfed in her flame, almost made up for her failure to bag the Avatar and her worthless excuse of a brother. But Zuzu's _scream_... oh, that was worth SO much more. Azula poured that joy into her flame, and against that nothing her opponents unleash on her spinning Nova shield could breach it.

The four elements whirled around her, as if _she_were the Avatar. No wonder the effect was nothing less than titanic when Azula completed the Nova form's movement and the shield exploded outward. Her eardrums popped and the finest hairs on her exposed hands and face sizzled to ash, but she took the least of it. The whole town was burning now. She could sense it through her firebending.

Stumbling through the blinding smoke, Azula threw open the door at her back and rushed out through the ruined wall. Even if Uncle's injury wasn't enough to slow them down, hopefully the explosion took out one or two of the Avatar's little helpers. They'd all be too busy to-

A dark figure stood ahead of her, beyond the smoke.

Azula slipped into a fighting stance, only to slip out of it just as quickly once the figure's outline became more distinct. Odango were hard to mistake. "You're late."

Ty Lee walked over to Azula's side. Both girls looked soaked.

"No," said Mai. "I'd say we're just in time."

Azula's retort died as Ty Lee's fists darted out and struck her. Terrific pain flared, then vanished along with all other feeling. Falling and hitting the ground were nothing through the numbness. Or the shock.

"Wh-what?" The limp princess glared up at her traitorous friends. "How DARE-"

Mai kicked her in the stomach. She could only feel a dull physical sensation as her body folded around Mai's boot, but it still managed to knock the wind out of her. "You hurt Ty Lee's circus friends and their animals. You almost killed her. You tried to get my baby brother killed. I don't really like the brat, but at least he keeps my parents from bothering me."

Azula struggled to control her breath. The brunt of Ty Lee's attack was wearing off, turning her whole body into a mass of pins and needles, but no fire would come. She glared up at her former friends, trying to cow them. "I hope you both realize what the consequences of your petty little revenge."

Ty Lee whimpered and turned away. Mai, meanwhile, simply bent down and picked up a chunk of rubble blown clear from some nearby building. "We do. By the way, thanks for burning down this town. Between the Avatar's dogpile on you and your charred corpse, our tracks will be pretty nicely covered."

It was like Ty Lee had hit her again. Everything inside Azula went cold and numb.

"You know, for someone so smart," Mai said, hefting a jagged rock over her head, "when it comes to people you've got no brains."


	63. A Cloud As Yet No Bigger Than

**A/N:** Written for the Avatar 500 drabble contest. The theme for this round was "Red."

* * *

.

**A Cloud As Yet No Bigger Than a Man's Hand**

.

* * *

You could tell outsiders by their walk. They didn't slump their shoulders when a guardsman passed by, or avert their eyes. Acting like that never stopped striking Jin as strange.

Most of her life, she'd tried not to attract attention from guardsmen dressed in conical hats and stone gloves. Then for a little while it was skull-faced men in red armor. After the comet, the guards wore green again but went barehanded. She walked the same way past all of them. Everyone who belonged in Ba Sing Se did.

Sometimes, Jin struggled to remember why people had fought and died so the guards she avoided weren't dressed in red.

* * *

. . .

* * *

During the occupation, the enemy had started frantically constructing hundreds of new factories and mills. Jin had made a little coin serving tea to the forced labor brigades. In the months after the war, His Majesty saw that the factories were finished. Jin heard the same jokes by the workers about their overseers.

She soon found work inside one of the new steel mills. Jin's small hands could reach into machinery that a man's hands couldn't. The floor was a horrible place to be: the broiling air, the smoke, the men pinching her behind. It was worth it, though. Three month's pay was worth more than what she made in a year's work bussing tables at Pao's Family Tea Shop.

Just one more year and she'd have enough money to be safe a long time. Maybe even to move up to the Middle Ring and find an apprenticeship!

* * *

. . .

* * *

That winter, Mother got sick.

* * *

. . .

* * *

When Mushi's invitation came, Jin had to refuse. She couldn't miss a day of work. They'd fire her and just hire one of the million women wanting her wage. Her manager didn't care about her, just her little hands. If they fired her, Jin's family would have to choose between Mother's medicine or paying the rent.

When a second invitation from Mushi came, it was presented by her floor manager.

"I know people," Mushi later told her.

Before their reunion, Jin scrubbed her hands until her flesh was raw and almost bleeding. Still, grime outlined her fingernails, bringing out every tiny vein of her many fresh callouses. Whenever she set down her impossibly delicate teacup that day, paranoia had Jin checking it for smudged fingerprints.

* * *

. . .

* * *

The skies were impossibly blue in the Upper Ring. The greenery hurt her eyes, it was so bright under the sunlight. The silence startled her too, but not as much as the way all the nobles walked like they had steel poles instead of spines. Why that really bothered her didn't occur to Jin until the trip home.

There were no guards in the Upper Ring.

* * *

. . .

* * *

One night, as she was ending her shift, a coworker pressed a pamphlet into her hand. Jin, exhausted, took it automatically. It wasn't until she boarded the monorail that Jin remembered she even had it. The front cover featured a single word: EQUALITY.

Curious, Jin peeled open the first page.

It began:

_The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles..._


	64. Almost a Messiah

.

**Almost a Messiah**

.

* * *

From the Northern Water Tribe's canals, a new god rose up against a moonless sky. La strode out through the ice city, sweeping away all who failed to bow, and waded into the ocean. The technological might of the Fire Nation was nothing before it. A single stroke broke the steel armada and sent it to the sea-bottom.

This was barely a prelude.

Tideless seas boiled with new forms of life, eldritch creatures of dimensions never before imagined by sane men. At La's command, they subdued the world for their creator. Neither army nor spirit could stop them. They carved open the walls of Ba Sing Se, surged across the Fire Nation's archipelago, uniting the world under a new breed. The newborn Avatar, clinging to her mother's breast in Foggy Swamp, could not answer the cries for salvation being screamed out across the globe, nor help herself as La's crawling legions devoured her and her kin.

Whichever humans prostrated themselves at the Ocean Spirit's feet would be spared, reordered into a new nation dedicated to venerating their god. They were a cult of the faithful. They were vermin crushed underfoot by the uncaring beings that had inherited their world. And leading them was _Zhao_, flesh twisted and warped, remade by the Ocean Spirit into an avatar for his cult.

Zhao's eyes were held open to see all of this, a nightmarish vision of the reign of tentacle and claw, of a world that had almost come into being. He couldn't close his eyes, could barely feel a warm stain leak down his pant-legs.

As this torturous vision receded, the admiral found himself lectured again by the voice of La, the Ocean Spirit.

**You were so proud of pilfering Wan Shi Tong's ageless stacks, weren't you? As if burning them wasn't enough to show your contempt for knowledge, you never _questioned_ what you learned. Why did Tui and I become mortal? If you had, you would be like a god because of my gratefulness, and I... _I_ would have been the one to kill my ancient foe.**

Undulating tentacles and hand with too many fingers suddenly took hold of Zhao. He shrieked, any measure of vanity or ego forgotten. At the edge of his sanity, the Ocean Spirit's continued to reverberate in his ears.

**Our ancient contract: I would allow her to grant her power to the waterbenders and make the oceans benefit man. In exchange, she would enter the human world and become mortal, vulnerable. **

"I'm sorry! I didn't know! Please! PLEASE BELIEVE ME!"

******Tui was MINE to kill. The Moon has forever been a yoke on my body, torturing it with tides. My only relief would be death, hers or mine. So for your impudence, you will beg forever for death...**

"MERCY!"

**...ZHAO THE UNDYING!  
**


	65. Tats

_**A/N:**_ _I ran a meme on my livejournal a while back. This one was for Loopy, who requested some Suki/Aang. This also ended up being something of a Modern AU._

* * *

.

**Tats**

.

* * *

Suki offered her arm reluctantly. Aang felt the weight of her eyes, studying his reaction as he gently took her wrist and used his free hand to probe the serial number tattooed across her inner forearm. The warrior's breathing grew shallow, silent. Aang became very conscious of the wireless humming in the next room, Radio Free Omashu barely audible through the static of the Firelord's jamming, and past that the faint hushing of Ember Island's surf.

Wetting his lips, he reach for a liquor bottle on the floor beside the couch Suki was reclined on. He splashed it over her forearm, sterilizing the skin. There was a towel spread out to catch any overrun. That done, he washed his hands in a pre-prepared bowl of the stuff.

Aang had planned everything out ahead of time, working off memories of his own tattooing and the lessons involved with it. Monk Gyatso had let him sit in silently on a few sessions of another monk. It was really simple stuff, even if it wasn't easy on anyone invol-

Wait. The tattooist used to talk through this.

"No second thoughts?" he blurted. Then swiftly added, "On your design?" The Sea Rose vine would cover up the number code nicely.

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes," she said, again short and clipped.

"Did... did I say something wrong?"

Suki took a breath. She exhaled. "No. I just... don't..."

Aang waited.

Brow creased, she finished, quietly, "I don't like those things. _Needles_."

"Really? I guess you could use some of this, huh?" Aang waggled the bottle at her.

Suki glared at him.

"Because tattooing uses... lots of, y'know..."

"Yes. I know."

Aang cringed.

Belatedly, her lips pressed together in a thin line. Her eyes trailed across his exposed arms, neck, forehead. "Although I suppose you had it worse than me."

He put on a smile for her. "It wasn't that bad. I just slept on my stomach a couple days and didn't move much."

Suki shuddered.

"Soooo I think that's enough talking," said Aang.

"Give me the bottle."

He did, then got to work.


	66. The Only Way It'll Be Canon

.

**The Only Way It'll Be Canon**

.

* * *

"Me?" Katara blurted. She glanced over at the swaddled newborn in Aang's arms, the newest princess of the Fire Nation and her namesake. "I'm... I'm honored, but why?"

"You saved my life," Zuko explained, "and saved the Fire Nation from another tyrant."

Mai, pale and exhausted from labor, added, "Meaning you kicked Azula's ass."

"But, um, 'Katara' probably wouldn't go over well with the court. It's too Water Tribe. So we changed it a little to make it sound properly Fire Nation."

Aang asked, "Changed it to what?"

"Zutara."


	67. The SureFire Way

.

**The Sure-Fire Way**

.

* * *

There was a sickeningly elaborate state event held when Mai finally visited Kyoshi Island, one with enough pomp and pageantry for half a dozen Firelord coronations. The ceremony apparently dated back to Avatar Kyoshi's era, Ty Lee told her hours later, after the last dove had been released and all the exhausted children had been sent to bed following the end of their coordinated dance routines. Mai didn't honestly care, but at least the local rice wine nicely burned one's throat.

The next day saw Ty Lee, still in that garish cultist make-up, drag her around on an official tour. All the drafty houses and muddy farm fields were impressively boring. It was only when they visited the island's schoolhouse that Mai realized just how foreign this island Ty Lee had adopted was.

The teacher was running a calligraphy lesson when she and Ty Lee arrived. Paper was too valuable here in the backcountry, so they used _sand_. What boggled Mai was that they still managed to be wasteful. The teacher and his assistants drafted characters on one side of the sandboxes, and then the students practiced copying it, smoothing out each imperfectly drawn iteration to try again.

It set Mai's teeth on edge.

Back in the Fire Nation, they used ink on paper because the paper's friction and ink's slipperiness were as much a part of calligraphy as the characters. Mai's childhood tutor had sat behind her, taking control of her arm and wrist and hand, and had manipulated her into performing the correct motions until the act had become her own. That was simply how children learned to do things properly, be it with chopsticks or the brush or the knife.

Except not here.

Mai looked to her friend and the girl's eyes sparkled with amusement. Yes, she _would _have loved this place as a kid, considering she had flunked Remedial Aesthetics twice. "Just so you know, the crown offers the children of expatriates generous scholarships to the Royal Academy."

"It does?"

"It will."


	68. Ten Bad Miles

.

**Ten Bad Miles**

.

* * *

The Firelord sat quietly with his oldest friend; their pai-sho game disturbed only by the faint quacking of turtleducks at the far end of the garden grounds.

Than Aang cleared his throat. "Do you realize that I'm as old as your father was when the comet came? Minus the ice."

Zuko drank longer from his teacup than was proper. Stalling bought him no wisdom, however. So he blandly offered, "Time does fly."

"Doesn't it? At least you kept your hair." Aang rubbed a hand over his bare skullcap. Grey eyes, thankfully still bright and alert, sparkled with good humor. Yet his expression was as lopsided as Zuko's own; one eye permanently narrowed. It wasn't due to any burn. A stroke two springs past had left its own scars inside Aang. "My mornings haven't felt right since I stopped needing to shave."

"You could do it anyway."

Aang made a face, a comical expression on a man with his surplus of age lines. "Waste of good lather. Now dyeing my mustache? _That _is something I don't miss doing."

Everyone in their circle had prematurely grayed, save Ty Lee. No surprise given their duties and obligations to the world's peace, or to the new nation they had all cobbled together out of the war's wreckage. That wasn't even factoring in the stress of raising children!

Aang had first grown his mustache at age nineteen; the hairs came in bone white. That had been their first clue what his time in that iceberg had personally cost him.

Heart heavier with such thoughts, Zuko refilled their drinks.

"Mmm." Aang bowed his head over his cup, savoring the aromatic steam rising off it. "You always brew the best tea, Uncle!"

Hot leaf juice and broken porcelain spilled across the table.

Aang... snickered.

"T-THAT WASN'T FUNNY!"

"I thought it was hilarious. And don't yell at your elders, whippersnapper."

"You're four years younger than me!"

"Technically, I'm ninety-five years older than you. And _you _certainly think that that counts for something, thanks." Aang waved off his anger; with the same gesture bending the shattered teacup back into one whole.

"Can we. Stop. Talking. About. This."

"Sure!" Aang chirped. "But only if you stop looking at me like I'm going to keel over. Because that," and here a certain hardness underscored his voice, "is only helping me understand Toph's issues with her parents."

"Just don't pull those jokes anymore. You almost gave me a heart attack." Aang's good eye widened in shock. Zuko cursed himself for being absentminded about tremor-sense.

Zuko turned over the empty teacup in his hands as Aang waited for an explanation. "Azula's lightning... it... it took a long time to really hurt me."

"How bad?"

He feigned a smile. "Well, I'm not going to outlast Azulon."

Aang leaned back. "...Damn. Here I was, thinking you'd meet my successor."

"I'm not dying THAT quickly!"

"Neither am I!"

"..."

"..."

"...I'm sorry," Zuko said.

"This sucks," Aang declared. "First me, then Toph, now you."

Zuko sat up. "Toph?"

"Didn't you hear?"

"No!"

"She's going blind."

Zuko laughed.


	69. The Cradle of the End of the World

.

**The Cradle of the End of the World**

.

* * *

Zuko runs cold. He follows Sokka's lead across the ocean surface, fighting the urge to ignite. Everything not numb hurts. He winks back at the boy's sister, who is exhaling snowflakes. Uncle will chide him when he tells this story for forgetting her name.

Sokka halts. "Anyone hear that?"

The pounding stride of a pack of polar bear dogs bearing slavers is a distinct sound.

Shameful fear wells up within Zuko, followed by the thought that the man who cut out his right eye might be among their number.

"Stop!" the sister pleads, adding a swat for good measure. Steam is roiling off his skin. Only cowards and traitors die cold. "You'll just help them find us!" Her breath still falls as powdered snow.

"They already have our scent."

Sokka walks between them. Zuko isn't sure who he is going to side with. Either guess turns out to be wrong. "Boy, if only we had two benders trained to dig." Trained by the lash, that is.

"I'm not hiding!"

"Gotcha. Katara, how's living sound to you?"

"Pretty great."

"Fine!" Zuko tears off his gloves. "Let's do that. Because it's not like they won't have benders with them."

The girl grins easily. "Good thing they have to bring their earth with them."

She honestly believes that. "You're a real idiot." He'll have to remember to tell Uncle that, too.

* * *

. . .

* * *

Zuko dares supply them only a candle's worth of hungry flame to work by. Unlike earth, ice doesn't compress. It should take three waterbenders to manipulate the ice for them to move so quickly.

Seeing her work, Zuko understands why the Flying Boar Clan really loosed so many dogs on them. What's a pretender prince to a dead throne actually worth? Out on the Curse, only an extra pair of hands to salvage Great-Grandfather's fleet for lost technology.

"Hey." Sokka pokes him. "Been wondering. You have any spooky inside knowledge about the Curse?"

"How should I know?"

"Well, it _is _your fault." Meaning his bloodline.

"Is not!"

"Uh-huh. So half the world just randomly freezes after firebenders kill the Avatar."

"Quiet!" Katara snaps. "You're wasting our air."

"So?" Sokka points up. "Open a hole."

The roof collapses, splashing them all with ice bent to water.

It's a fast, clumsy fight, ending with Katara forcing the water back up, sealing them in a squat ice coffin submerged to their knees.

They're still dead.

Cursed ice freezes any water it touches, especially so near the Curse's heart. An ice skin instantly grows atop the shallow pool.

"BOIL IT!" Sokka shouts. "HANDS UNDERWATER!"

Zuko punches the slush and _burns_. It thaws. The water even begins to rise.

"I can't hold them forever!" shouts Katara.

He'll never see Uncle again. He's going to drown in glowing Cursed wat-

Wait. Glowing?

"DON'T BOIL _US_!"

The water is bubbling. Zuko smells... fresh air. What? "I'm not! It's-"

The floor collapses. They fall into a riot of light.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"And that," he tells Uncle, "is how we found the Avatar."


	70. This Year In Jerusalem

.

**This Year In Jerusalem**

.

* * *

"Just relax," the Avatar says, and Song tries. She does! But their ceiling is the sky and anyone could be watching from the shadows of the trees at the edge of the meadow. "You were born to airbend."

They move through the basic kata again, summoning a wind through the tall grasses. Crisp waves billow the high stalks before the Avatar, while Song only manages a half-hearted breeze.

"Good!" he lies. "Now you're getting it!"

At their clinic, Mother handles the stitching on facial cuts or any place clothing won't cover. A long lifetime taught her a thousand little lessons to perfect her technique. The Avatar is the same, only three years Song's junior. He never had to practice his bending in a cellar temple. He wears the mark of his element openly.

Song has only met three other airbenders her whole life. She couldn't imagine a small village's worth of her people, and that's all Mother guessed were left, let alone enough to fill temples as big as cities.

The Avatar touches her arm. "Everyone earns their arrow eventually. I used to worry sometimes that I'd be the last one, but I got it eventually."

"Our people don't take tattoos anymore." Airbending is mark enough.

The Avatar frowns, and a flush runs up Song's back. He almost starts to say something but stops. Sighing, the Avatar runs a hand along the blue curve of his skullcap. "I guess I sort of have to earn my arrow again, don't I?"

They move through the kata again.


	71. Chain of Flowers

.

**Chain of Flowers**

.

* * *

Poppy cradled her newborn close, focusing on Toph's wrinkled face instead of Mother's.

"...satisfactory enough manager of your father's estate, certainly, but what good is Lao if he's practically impotent? And after years wasted trying, it's a cripple!"

Lao stood in the corner, head bowed.

"She," Poppy whispered.

"Excuse me?"

Her long labor was almost a blessing, as Poppy's body was too exhausted to tremble at the edge in Mother's voice. "Toph might be a cripple-"

"There's no 'might' about it!"

"But she's still our daughter." Poppy raised her eyes, meeting Mother's and Lao's. "We're _not_ getting rid of anyone."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Performing around her friends was easier. They didn't know enough about etiquette to spot mistakes. Not like Mom, always correcting her slightest shortcomings as a proper lady.

With Dad, it was pointless trying. He'd seen her in that arena. Mom hadn't, not that it mattered.

"Your Father tells me you've opened a school."

Toph swallowed her mouthful of pastry before speaking. "Yes."

"Perhaps you could give me a tour one day."

"We're a traveling school."

"So you... rent often?"

_Like a peasant_, went the unvoiced criticism.

"Sometimes. Mostly we just walk."

"Walk where?"

"Everywhere."

"I see."

Mom's heartbeat said otherwise.

* * *

. . .

* * *

There weren't many rules, growing up. Mom wasn't keen on them. There was only earthbending. Inside the sacrosanct training ring, anything went.

She loathed that ring.

By sixteen, she'd watched countless students get bloodied and battered while Mom cheered. No matter Mom's needling about her 'wussiness', she recognized bullying and injustice.

So she used a new, secret technique in the ring. Neutralizing her footsteps' vibrations, she easily blindsided her old lady with a right hook.

"Not so fun when _you're_ the victim, is it?"

Mom, clutching her bloodied nose, scowled back.

Shaking, she turned and left the ring behind forever.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Aren't interrogations above your pay grade, Mom?"

"Save it," said Chief Bei Fong. "I've got a wagonload of Equalists quoting the Basic Law, thanks to you."

She shrugged as best she could in handcuffs. "Not my fault protesters have rights."

"So do criminals."

"Don't talk like we're Amonists."

"An Equalist is an Amonist is an Equalist, even if they're led by a little idiot with bender envy."

"Oh, don't even-! You people always play that tile, don't you?"

"Only because it's true with you. I hope Equalism makes for a warm blanket in your cell."

"It will!"

And it did.


	72. Farewell Letters

.

**Farewell Letters**

.

* * *

Mai,

I know I'm writing you another goodbye letter, and I'm sorry. I understand if you're still angry at me. I've said and done a lot of things I'm not proud of in my life, and the worst have been to you. I'm sorry.

Please don't be angry with Uncle. I knew what I was getting into when I went back to face Azula. If he knew ahead of time what I'm writing by the campfire, he'd probably say something about needing to think positively, but I don't want to do the wrong thing by you again.

I'm sorry I couldn't come back for you that day. Uncle's friends have promised to do everything they can to get you and Ty Lee out of the Boiling Rock after the Comet passes. My friends have promised to keep you safe; life won't ever be boring around them.

I love you, Mai. I wish I had been a better man for you.

-Zuko

* * *

. . .

* * *

Commander Suki of the Kyoshi Warriors,

Zuko said that before Fire Nation soldiers leave for a big battle, they write a letter for their families and friends in case they die. Not a bad idea, right? Even if it comes from a bunch of enemy firebenders.

If you're having trouble reading this, ask Katara for help. She's pretty good at reading my writing. Katara, if you're reading this, don't tearbend on my letter! You either, Suki! And don't deny it, you said yourself you're still a girl.

Okay, so if you're reading this then I'm dead. If I'm haunting you, just tell me to stop. If I can't hear you because ghosts are deaf or something, ask Aang to point me to the Fields of Endless Game.

Suki, I want you to have boomerang and space sword. They're great weapons and they need an awesome warrior to carry them. And if you can swing it, try to apprentice under Master Piandao. I'm gonna put in a good word for you after I hand him this letter to keep, but if that's not enough just remember to act real humble if he asks if you think you're good enough to be his student. You can never be unworthy enough with him! I know it'd kind of a stretch for you to act humble, because, let's face it, you can't handle criticism without getting all bossy about it (which is kind of hot), but try for my sake. I think you'd really appreciate what he has to teach, and becoming a better warrior is always important.

Katara, I want you to stop reading now.

Suki, please watch over Katara. She acts all tough and independent, but sometimes she needs someone to cut her down to the same size as the rest of us mere mortals. You're pretty good at doing that to me. Just get Katara to wound your pride. And keep an eye on Toph, too. She's still a kid.

I know it's gonna be hard, but please don't moon over me for the rest of your life. It's not a fun way to live, trust me.

Be happy.

Love,

Sokka of the Water Tribe

* * *

. . .

* * *

Aang,

Sokka asked me to proofread a goodbye letter for Suki in case something bad happens to him, which just goes to show that he really does have a heart. It seemed like a good idea, so...

If Master Pakku gave this to you, then I didn't come back from facing Azula. I hope Zuko made it through in one piece, and if he did then please help him not blame himself for whatever happened to me. You know how Zuko is.

Aang, after I almost lost you, all I could think about was what I could have done differently in that cave to save you. Before you woke up, I would have done anything to trade places with you back then. But I've learned that whatever happens, happens. I couldn't save you any more than I could save my mother, and hurting other people won't change the past. You taught me that.

You're special, Aang, and not because you're the Avatar. It's because you're the most wonderful person I've ever known. You've changed so many lives for the better, including mine. Don't ever doubt that. One day you're going to make some woman very happy, and you're going to be a wonderful father to your children. I'm glad for you, Aang.

There's one last thing I need to say to you, and if we meet again I will. I promise.

-Katara


	73. East to West

.

**East to West**

.

* * *

"My name is Dante Caelum Ambulator, and I have long trained to do battle with the messiah of Caesar's enemies. But now I see You are nothing but a child!"

"Well," Zachariah replied, "_you're_ just a teenager."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Shepard Jennie, abbess of the Blessed Order of Saint Hale, surveyed her prisoners. The milky skin of the fair-haired ones clearly marked them as polar barbarians, yet that was no proclamation of innocence. Theirs was a scattered, desperate people. Jennie had lost one aunt to Southern raiders. Who was to say Caesar had not poisoned this lanky pair's hearts with gold or honeyed lies?

The third barbarian was an odd turtle-duck, garbed in coarse handspun cloth cut in the style of bygone legends. Perhaps a pawn of the horn-helmeted barbarians, trotted out to con wayward souls desperate for the Almighty's salvation.

"You have some explaining to do," the mayor began.

"Speak quickly!" Jennie ordered. "Else you'll experience the Leviathan's mercy."

The blond giant barked, "Reveal yourselves, cowards!"

Jennie sneered at the disrespect, but inwardly conceded that the barbarian was not without merit. The Gospel of Saint Hale was clear on matters of law. If one accused of a crime was not allowed to openly face their accuser, justice was miscarried.

She undid their blindfolds.

The Southern man did a quick scan of the crowd around him and of his bonds before speaking. "Who are _you_, little valkyrie? Why did you attack us?"

"Who are you calling _little_?"

He rolled his eyes. "I think we kinda established that."

Jennie raised her rapier. The barbarian's mirth drained away.

"Wait, don't hurt him!" pleaded the blonde beside him, voice astonishingly gentle for her size. Jennie could see why their witches were sometimes called frost giantess. "My brother's just an idiot sometimes."

"It's my fault," said the boy with tonsured hair. "I'm sorry we came here. I wanted to ride the elephant-beluga."

The mayor snorted. "How do we know you're not Fire Empire spies? Haleland has stayed out of the eternal crusade so far. And we intend to keep it that way!"

"This island is named for Saint Hale? I know her!"

Jennie's station prevented her from laughing at such foolishness. The mayor lacked any restriction. "Saint Hale ascended four hundred years ago. She has sat at the Almight's side for centuries!"

"I know her because we are both prophets of God."

This blasphemy was too much. Only the boy's youth kept Jennie from striking him. "Impossible! The last prophet was an air witch who died a hundred years ago."

"That's me!"

"Throw the heretics to the Leviathan!" barked the mayor.

Yet even as her knights advanced upon the barbarians, the youngest among them slipped bonds of rope as easily as he did of gravity. Jennie's heart leapt into her throat.

"Now, check _this _out!" he boasted.

Among the onlookers, a mute began flailing about, mouth foaming. When he cleansed himself, his throat had been healed and he could speak.

Jennie fell to her knees in praise.


	74. Refining Fire

_**A/N:**_ _I ran a character swap meme on my livejournal a few months back. This one is for gamiel, who requested "Iroh is the former Fire Nation hero turned traitor and Jeong Jeong is the firstborn Fire Nation prince."_

* * *

.

**Refining Fire**

.

* * *

They collected the traitor at Sozin's Bay.

Jeong-Jeong, acting as both grand admiral and crown prince, oversaw the transfer of custody from the Judicial Soldiers Crops. The dock churned with a human tide held back only by soldiers too free with their firebending. Undeterred, a few threw produce, pelting the prisoner. Only when their crown prince appeared did the crowd quiet.

Just as tanned, leathered skin did not suit a prince, the polished armor Jeong-Jeong wore was equally ill-fitting. It pinched uncomfortably in odd places. Golding trimming he had idly adored as a boy was now needless opulence to his eye. Worst of all were the unbroken boots. Polished to a mirror shine, they squeezed his feet like a vice. He longed for his normal uniform, not this costume he wore in public.

Whatever discomfort he felt mounted at the sight of the traitor general. Iroh looked so small now, weighed down by chains that were infinitely heavier than the irons clamped around his ankles and wrists. Until he had seen Iroh for himself, a part of Jeong-Jeong couldn't believe a man so blandly accepting of war's cruelties had become a self-professed traitor of conscience.

_If the Dragon of the West himself could turn..._

He left that thought unfinished.

* * *

. . .

* * *

Years ago, Jeong-Jeong had ordered two coolers specially built into his flagship's brig. A day inside for the unprepared meant a week without firebending. The prince ran a tight ship, so rare was the occasion when a crew member committed an infraction that merited such harsh punishment. Mostly Jeong-Jeong used the coolers for his personal meditations.

A bender of Iroh's skill would be undiminished by the cold. To cage him inside a cooler would be simple sadism.

If anyone complained about his softness, Jeong-Jeong will tell them that, after his son Lu Ten's death, anything more would be paltry. He understood, having long-ago lost his wife in childbirth. Iroh's world had ended. He would not be given time to construct another.

* * *

. . .

* * *

Ba Sing Se was lost, the army withdrawn by a heartbroken general. So in lieu of the city, a man burned.

The Firelord showed no hesitation towards the last Dragon. It took twenty-seven lashes of Azulon's fire to Iroh's back to kill the man; an endurance record, he later learned. Jeong-Jeong had seen men killed before, had spilled blood and charred flesh himself, but never for an audience. With twenty-seven lashes, the mind had time to indulge its distaste and let the eyes wander.

His brother Ozai never looked away. Neither did his sister-in-law, or his niece. No one would, except for his nephew, pale and shaky at smell of cooked meat. And he was the only one! How... how could everyone else not be...

* * *

. . .

* * *

The breakthrough in Ba Sing Se was lost. Everyone knew it. So the assembled staff in the War Room planned its next campaign. Sitting silently beside his Lord father, Jeong-Jeong took care to observe everyone's face as they blandly discussed kill ratios and causality estimates against the North, against Omashu. They looked no different than they had while watching a man they had known all their lives being scourged to death.

He tried to imagine his nephew sitting in at this meeting and felt nauseous.

Finally, perhaps noting his long silence, the Firelord asked him, "What do you feel is the best use of my navy, Prince Jeong-Jeong?"

Almost on reflex, he replied, "Finding the Avatar."

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Uncle." Jeong-Jeong gave the boy leave to rise from his kowtow on the docks. His mother and father followed suit behind. Stiffly, likely drawing from some memorized script, his nephew added, "I am honored to join you on this great mission, just as I am honored to be chosen as your heir."

Ozai couldn't contain the smothered rage in his eyes at that. Since Jeong-Jeong had made his nephew the inheritor of his estate, the Firelord had blessed the tact endorsement by shuffling the boy ahead of his father in the chain of succession.

Jeong-Jeong bowed slightly. "The honor, Prince Zuko, is mine."


	75. The Burned Bandit

_**A/N:**_ _I ran a character swap meme on my livejournal a few months back. This one is for Omoni, who requested "Toph is born blind and still Zuko's sister, while Azula is born a Bei Fong in the Earth Kingdom."_

* * *

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**The Burned Bandit**

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* * *

**0.**

Toph, according to mythology, was the name of the mythical killer of Shu, lover of Oma. In certain renditions of the story, after founding her great city, Oma exiled Toph across the western sea.

Azula is the feminine form of Azulon, the celestial Azure Dragon of the East, one of the Four Great Constellations. It is also the name of the leader of the Earth Kingdom's mortal enemy and, consequently, a distinctly unpopular name outside the Fire Nation in recent generations.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**1.**

You couldn't mix blood without consequences, General Iroh knew. If some colonial landlord wanted to bed an Earth sharecroppers, that was one thing, but blending the lines of Sozin and Roku? Madness.

Nevertheless his father does just that, arranging a marriage between Ozai and the traitor Avatar's spawn in a bid to breed a superior firebender. If anyone was surprised when the children that weren't miscarried had been born cripples, they were lying. One such child could be an unhappy coincidence, but two was a clear pattern of disfavor from the spirits of their ancestors.

Tiny Zuko, born prematurely, straining for each breath past his sixth birthday, lungs wracked with all manner of allergies and asthma. And poor Toph...

It was fortunate she had born into wealth. A blind child was a burden for any family, but a blind firebender was dangerous. They couldn't see their flames spread, didn't know when they had to rein them in.

It was a shame. If she had been a boy, the Fire Sages could have taken Toph into their esteemed ranks. Their oral histories and fables were perfectly suited for memorization by a perpetual illiterate. As it was, Iroh's niece was destined for a life as a courtier, trading in gossip. A shallow destiny for one with royal blood, however clotted it might flow in her veins.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**2. **

The perfect daughter.

Seen but not heard. Every move carefully calculated and performed without hesitation. Garbed in the latest fashions out of Ba Sing Se. Expression fixed in a pleasant guise that revealed nothing at all. Demure. Obident. Each step an expression of utter grace. Hands supple. Skin milky white from lack of sun. Were a single stray black hair to fall across her forehead, it would seem an obscene affront to her artful presentation.

The blind badgermoles knew an entirely alien creature.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**3.**

The brush laid down slick, black curves. Faint curls of steam rose off the ink. It had been heated, just like everything else his daughter needed to see. When Toph was finished, she proudly held up the drawing for him to inspect. Despite coming from a brush held by the chubby hand of a small child, it wasn't a bad portrait of Ozai, especially coming from a child whose golden irises were covered in a milky film.

"It's very good," Ozai told her.

His daughter smiled freely. They'd have to work on that.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**4. **

Wear a mask and people would wonder what was underneath it. So you needed to give them something else to look at. Happily, men were horny fools.

In the beginning, when she snuck around town, one thing Azula did was stuff silk scarves down the front of her shirt. Her needlework lessons eventually got put to practical use, producing a specially tailored dress that bolstered her breasts without slip ups. That plus the right attitude obscured her age and identity. It came in handy once she learned about the Earth Rumbles.

It was a barbaric sport, really, but altogether glorious. When one scored points at a society function, it was an achievement that went unvoiced. Here... the roar of the crowd shook her like thunder. It combined the visceral thrill of thrashing people in dark alleys with the triumph of performance. Winning the fights was never in doubt. Winning the crowd was another matter. She needed a symbol, something for the unwashed masses to latch onto, and sex wasn't going to cut it.

Azula really didn't know what the little people thought about things, but _did _understand the way people on the street talked about the war. It was something everyone knew, even her parents, although they tried to keep that from her. Mother gladly fostered her newfound interest in make-up and the theater, so eagerly in fact that even the paranoid would be hard pressed to notice how Azula had tucked away a jar of concealer there and a pot of blush there. The hardest part was getting the textures to look like authentic scar tissue, but she managed with enough experimentation.

The Burned Bandit, they called her.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**5.**

Every aspect of Princess Toph's life was infused with heavenly Fire. She could watch the flow of hot blood beneath people's skin, identify them by how each person's face uniquely lit up with heat. And what other blind girl could read characters by how their black ink absorbed more heat than the blank parchment around them, or paint beautifully with a brush slick with near-boiling ink?

(Too bad she's an apathetic dullard who coasts along on her title. Say what you will about her older brother's incompetency, but at least he gave full effort to his studies and royal duties. The princess was just a thug. And it was _fucking creepy _how she could tell if you were lying, just had sex, hadn't eaten lunch, were pregnant, or, as Admiral Rao discovered from an off-hand comment delivered by the princess during a war meeting, riddled with malignant tumors.)

Only those among the court elite, privileged with personal contact with the royal family, could appreciate their princess so.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**6.**

Azula flung a boulder at her challenger, one of the little idiots who attended Master Yu's academy, and couldn't contain her shock when he changed couse _mid-air_ to avoid the inbound attack. Even the arena crowd fell silent at the sight of airbending.

Later, after the riotous cheering had subsided and Azula had strapped on her champion's belt, the Avatar took her aside. "I need an earthbending teacher, and I think it's supposed to be you."

The Fire Nation had to be hunting him. They'd probably only sent the best of the best after him. "Will it be dangerous?"

He nodded. "Yeah. It will."

Azula grinned. "Then count me in."


	76. The Piandao Method

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**The Piandao Method**

.

* * *

"My journeys have taken me across the world, learning ancient secrets from sage masters." Piandao readied his sword. "I can turn you into a master swordsman in a single day, Sokka. Just follow my instructions."

"Awesomesauce."

"Your first lesson is this: hold **L** to target me."

"Really? I already use **L-targeting** for my boomerang," said Sokka, following the order. "Which, uh, is totally a weapon we use all the time in the colonies."

"I'm sure. Now, the foundation of any successful sword strike is knowing when to press the **A** button."

"Like this?" Sokka unleashed a flurry of sword strikes on Piandao, who countered them effortless.

"Very good, Sokka." He sheathed his blade. At some unspoken signal, Fat entered the yard. "We'll practice your backflips, thrust, and spin attacks later, but for now there's another fundamental technique we should go over. A warrior must sometimes practice stealth, after all, and I apprenticed under the slipperiest of snakes."

Piandao accepted an item from Fat. He presented it to his student, who raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "This, Sokka, is a cardboard box..."

* * *

. . .

* * *

_(Omake)_

"What's it say?" Toph asked, holding the note upside down towards Katara, who righted it.

_- TAKING ZUKO TO FARM SOME BOARS AND LEVEL UP. WILL BE BACK LATER._

Katara explained, "Sokka says he and Zuko are going to go grind for a few days, and Aang's busy doing his hot-squats. So I guess it's just going to us gir- your nose is bleeding."

"I...I'll be in my bunk!"


	77. The Safety Belts

**A/N: **No, I did not misspell 'jazz'. It's just an old timey alternate spelling.

* * *

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**The Safety Belts**

.

* * *

Li spotted the new girl standing at the bar, mesmerized by the jass band. You could always tell the fresh fish when they got their first hit of the real thing, and the Safety Belts were Republic City's purest, rawest jass.

He slipped in beside her. "They sure are swell, aren't they?"

She glanced at Li with sea blue eyes as sharp as a shiv. There was no fooling this one. "They really are," she finally answered. "I can't believe they aren't playing downtown already."

"And start a riot?"

Onstage, Yoko the lead singer cradled her microphone stand between her legs, crooning an old standby about dead soldier boys and the way they used to touch her.

"Li Tong." He offered a hand.

Her own was extensively tattooed, covered in complex geometric patterns that spiraled up her muscled arms to her neck and cheeks. "Maitara. Maitara Kayi, now, actually."

"Fresh off the boat?"

She adjusted her glasses. "Pretty much."

"Well, you're in the right place! That's a real United Republic name; Water and Fire together." Even if meant her parents named her in honor of some hereditary dictator's bedwarmer, but he wasn't going to chew off a pretty stranger's ear about dead imperialists. "University?"

"Pictures."

The cliché actually hurt to hear. "Gonna be an actress, huh?"

"Stunt double." At his puzzled frown, she flexed an arm. "Slap armor on me and I look like any other soldier in black and white."

"Nice how we can all be equal on the big screen."

"Exactly." She nursed her drink a little. A bead of sweat traced its way down her neck to her cleavage. "You big on equality too?"

"I'd be in the wrong place if I wasn't." He jiggled his drink at her, then remembered she was new in town. "You can tell the right bars by the ice in their drinks. Machine-made ice cubes are too uniform for a waterbender to mass produce."

Maitara squinted at his glass. "Does it taste different?"

"Nah, but you gotta support your fellow working stiff, y'know? Never met a bender who needed a tune-up."

The Safety Belts began playing an upbeat number.

"You dance yet?" Li asked.

"Not yet." She set her drink down on the bar. "I get to lead."

He grinned as she took his hand. "Doll, this is Republic City. _Anyone _can lead."

* * *

. . .

* * *

"No luck getting yourself killed?"

Korra hung up her coat. "Good evening to you too, Mako."

"Don't be hard on him," Bolin said. "Bro was really worried about you. I kept having to rub his shoulders to help him calm down."

"S-SHUT UP!"

"How'd infiltrating enemy territory go?" Bolin asked.

"Like Avatar Aang said. I learned a lot." She plopped down on the couch. "Including that Jinora has _skills _when she cuts loose. These temporary henna ink tattoos are the slush. I should be her practice dummy more often."

"Meet anyone nice?"

"A few. Mostly they were just regular people." Korra shook her head. "How weird is that?"


	78. Merry Agnimas

.

**Merry Agnimas**

.

* * *

Fire Lady Mai eyed with disdain the wreaths and mistletoe hanging all around the palace. It had been her husband's idea to return to the ancient ways and restore the holiday of Agnimas, long ago canceled by Fire Lord Sozin as a way to ration valuable boar-q-pine glazed hams to feed the war effort. It'd been a surprisingly popular move for Zuko's shaky regime, with children and merchants alike celebrating all the presents being bought by parents. Mai had her doubts, however.

"Who ever heard of Agni anyway?" she asked one day.

Zuko explained, "He's our God, Mai. _Obviously_. Even though we never made any mention of him before, he's clearly long established as an important figure in our culture. We're the Fire Nation. We should worship a sun spirit like the Water Tribe does their spirits."

"You mean the same spirits that got their fins beaten by Zhao?"

Here, Zuko faltered. Anyone beaten by Zhao was hardly awe-inspiring, after all. "That... that doesn't matter. What does is that we celebrate the birth of Agni's only begotten son, who eventually died for our sins by giving away his own ticket on the Ark to Santa Claus. Besides, if we didn't worship a god, what would we use to swear by?"

"Something that doesn't Westernize us into poorly veiled Christian monotheists?"

"_Mai_," he said, pinching his nose in exasperation. "Next you'll be asking fanfic authors to actually bother taking five seconds to google Shintoism or Confucianism, and then where will we be?"

"Not saying 'By Agni!' when we're exasperated or surprised?"

"We're not having this conversation," he insisted. "Now, what do you think I should buy Toph for Omaukkah?"


	79. Suzuki Week 2011: Scars

**A/N: **Another entry in my firebender!Suki AU. You can find the other entries in this collection. This story, _Scars_, takes place after _The Bastard of Kyoshi Island_ (Ch.33) but before _Twice a Traitor_ _(Ch.42)_.

* * *

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**Scars**

.

* * *

It had Uncle's idea for him to instruct the Kyoshian in the art of firebending. "Being a teacher, nephew," Uncle had said, "allows a person to learn things they thought they already knew."

That was how Uncle had sold the idea to him. Teaching a beginner the fundamentals of firebender would supposedly give him new insight into the art. It'd also teach the Kyoshian a modicum of self-control. Zuko had forbidden the crew from giving her any more pillows and blankets to ruin. She'd just keep setting them on fire in her troubled sleep.

The first week's lessons had resulted in none of that.

"She's an arrogant, ill-tempered brat! All I want to do is help her but she just ignores whatever I say! She even gets angry at _me_ for showing _concern_! I can't even offer her tea without sparking a fight! And _ancestors forbid_ you criticize the people who banished her, like they're worthy of any respect." Snarling, Zuko punched a wall, leaving a dented scorch mark. Rage vented, he bowed his head. "I'm supposed to be her sifu, but all I feel like I am is a failure. What would you do in my position, Uncle?"

Uncle drank from his teacup for a very long time. When he finally set the cup, he spread his hands out on the table before him and mildly replied, "That is quite the conundrum, Prince Zuko. I do not think I have ever faced a situation exactly like that before."

Zuko sighed. It figured that when he needed advice the most, Uncle would have no practical experience in the subject at hand.

"But," Uncle added, raising a finger, "I believe the best thing you can do is offer Suki your unconditional support and friendship. She is going through a very difficult time in her life right now. She may not appreciate it now, or maybe ever, but your support will help her recover from the terrible trauma she has experienced."

"So I should just indulge her bad habits? That's no solution!"

"You need to do whatever you think is right by her, Prince Zuko, but I believe she is only angry at you because you and your lessons are a safe outlet for her pain. The memory of what her loved ones did to her is too raw. Until she accepts for herself what happened and heals, an easy target will help your student to not leave that rage to fester inside her heart."

He sat down across from his Uncle. Suddenly he very much needed a cup of tea. "Teaching is a lot harder than I expected. I thought it was just practicing forms and breathing exercises. I didn't realize there was all this people stuff."

"Teaching can be difficult, but it can also be rewarding. Have faith in yourself, nephew. I do."

"Uncle?"

"Yes?"

"If I ever act half as bad as Suki does, you can slap me upside the head. I'd deserve it."

Uncle poured himself a very large cup of tea. "I don't think that will be necessary, Prince Zuko."


	80. Suzuki Week 2011: Duty

.

**Suzuki Week 2011: Duty**

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* * *

He wasn't an idiot, no matter what Mai said. Zuko knew that Kyoshi Island had repaired the damage done by his attack long before the war had even ended, never mind in the two years since. But he owed a debt of honor to the island to help it rebuild, one he had sworn to a friend to fulfill. So when business in the capital ground to its yearly halt during the annual monsoons, Zuko decided he would spend his vacation on Kyoshi Island lending his hands wherever they were needed.

Not having much experience in physical labor, he stuck with what he knew. Even the houses that had gone undamaged in the attack three years ago still had the odd roof tile that needed replacing. Zuko even managed to avoid ruining too many nails this time around. Only he run into a small, unforeseen problem.

"NOOOO!" screamed one child, staring up bug-eyed at him as he peaked through a hole in her family's leaking ceiling. "Don't take me away! I ate all my cabbage! I swear!

"Cabbage? What are you-"

But by that point, the child had run out the front door screaming about how the 'evil prince' had come for her.

He didn't blame the parents (much) for asking him to leave, even if they sheepishly admitted that they'd been using the specter of him as a sort of Abominable Lavaman to make sure their daughter cleaned her plate these past months.

Still, there were other jobs to do, like beating out rugs.

"NOOOO!" screamed another child, scrambling to pocket dust on the ground, convinced they were ashes. "MOMMY! DADDY! I should have done my chores! I'm s-s-s-orry!""

Or delivering laundry.

"NOOOO!" screamed a little boy as Zuko walked through the front door. "Wait, why do you have Koko's clothes? KYOSHI'S SPLEEN, you ATE Koko, didn't you?"

Or grocery shopping for elderly folks.

"NOOOO!" screamed a gaggle of small children as they happened across him buying produce from a visiting merchant. "Our parents lied! He eats things that taste like cabbage! Nothing can save us! NOOOOOOO!"

In the end, Zuko settled for doing what he did best: finding a quiet corner and sulking. He was being a champ at that when Suki found him.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"Fine."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No."

Suki sat down next to him on the beach. "Zuko, my people aren't really that friendly to begin with. It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is."

"...Okay, fine. It actually kind of _is_ your fault. But doing chores for people isn't going to change their minds. Being a good Firelord will. It'll just take time."

He glanced over at her. "You really think so?"

"I do. We're friends now, aren't we?" He nodded. "There you go. Now why don't we go get some dinner? Ty Lee promised to keep Sokka out of the kitchen tonight."

"Hey!" said Sokka, strolling onto the beach. "You two just don't have the same refined palate as me. Kyoshi-Water-Fire fusion sea prune koi curry is gonna catch on, just you watch!"

Zuko said, "Sure it will, buddy."

The three of them walked back up the hill. As they approached the village, Sokka and Suki's shorter strides meant they slowly fell behind him, especially walking hand-in-hand as they did.

"So," Sokka said softly to his wife, "since I didn't make the bed this morning like I promised, does that mean the big bad Fire Prince got to eat you first?"

Suki giggled. "Quiet! He'll hear you!"

Up ahead, Zuko facepalmed.


	81. Loyalty and Rewards

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**Loyalty and Rewards**

.

* * *

"Mai," Azula began, breaking the silence of their walk through the garden grounds, "do you actually love Zuko?"

"He's amusing, I guess."

"Because sometimes I wonder. The way you just tossed him away at Chan's party, like he was some peasant instead of your crown prince." Azula glanced askew at Mai. "It's not like you to be rebellious. Or stupid."

"I meant no disrespect to the throne, Princess," Mai began, inwardly hating the sudden quickening of her heart. She wasn't stupid, however; having already prepared a logical excuse if Azula made an issue of that night. "I said what I did to Zuko because I knew he would come back, and because it would make him less likely to leave me in the future."

Azula tapped her lower lip with a long, perfectly manicured fingernail. Firebenders typically lacked nails of such length. That the princess had them spoke more to her perfection of the art than any bolt of bent lightning, and they both knew it. "Hm. Zuzu _is _like a kicked dog that way, isn't he?"

Mai said nothing. She hadn't really been asked a question.

"Do you intend on marrying my brother?"

"If it pleases you, Azula."

"It doesn't please me to imagine you as my superior. Does it please you, Mai?" Azula said this lightly, and it was honestly meant as a fluff question. Neither of them were under any delusion about what Mai's answer would be, or if there would be some deception beneath those words. Azula had smothered any sort of independent fire years ago.

(_Or thought she had_, wasn't something Mai allowed herself to think.)

"No, Princess. I could never be your superior. Or your equal."

"I just want to know for certain that you realize what marrying Zuko means." Azula stopped beneath an apple tree. Mai reached up, picked a piece of fruit, and began skinning it for the princess. A long, unbroken peel slowly spiraled down to the ground. "Because I've always appreciated your loyalty, Mai. So believe me when I say that there's no need for Zuko to come to harm to ensure my succession as Fire Lord."

Mai finished with the apple. The whole peel tumble down into the grass. She began sectioning the flesh into wedges, wet fingers never so much as trembling. Mai did that all without breaking eye contact with Azula.

"Whenever I don't require you, you'll need someplace nice to live. Maybe renovate my family's house on Ember Island, or perhaps something out of the way in the colonies. Give it some thought." The princess chuckled. "Maybe Zuzu could open his own tea shop."

"Thank you, Azula. Although that sounds a little boring."

The princess took the first piece of apple she offered, chewing and swallowing before speaking again. "Someone with Zuko's lack of amibition and pathetic ignorance of reality deserves to waste their days away in the countryside, playing pai-sho and growing fat like Uncle, not being Fire Lord. But I do own him. Excuse me. 'Owe' him."

"Oh?" Mai asked, because that was an invitation.

Azula finished a second wedge and then waved Mai's hand away. She tossed aside the rest of the apple.

"Under Ba Sing Se," the princess answered. "The look on Uncle Fatso's face when Zuzu stabbed him in the back... priceless. I guess he didn't realize how much of a kicked dog your future husband is."

At that phrasing, Mai bowed her head. "Thank you, Princess."

"I reward loyalty." Azula dried her juice-slick fingers on Mai's sleeve. "Just remember, Zuzu's your responsibility now. Try to keep him from doing anything too stupid."

"Of course."

"You can leave."

At that, Mai began walking back along the path that would eventually take her out of the palace.

"And Mai?"

She stopped, looked over her shoulder at Azula.

"Yes, Azula?"

"Bad dogs get put down."

Mai nodded, turned, and resumed her stroll out of the garden.


	82. 48 Sequels

.

**Summary: **_A series of follow-ups to the forty-eight drabbles so far posted in this archive, in celebration of the one year anniversary _The Fun and Perky Warrior's Wolf Tail._ Some are longer than others, but there's a little something for every ficlet I've yet published._

_**A/N:** The symbology of fire lilies discussed within one of the sequels is not my own. It originally came from the Gaang Junior Adventures. I just elaborated on it a little._

* * *

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**48**** Sequels **

**(More or Less)**

.

* * *

**33. **_**The Bastard of Kyoshi Island**_**; or, the one where kid!Suki is secretly a firebender. **

Suki didn't cry in front of the other girls.

Suki never cried in front of other people, period.

When her mother came back that night, Suki was caught rocking back and forth on the floor, skin steaming.

Control was optional at home. Punishment for loss of it was not.

* * *

. . .

* * *

As Suki's hands pruned, her mother knelt on the floor opposite her. The water bucket rested between them.

"You must really want to become a Kyoshi Warrior. Are you really that desperate to move away from your mother?"

"No!"

"Temper, Suki," she soothed. Suki took a deep breath. Carrying on, Mom said, "I know how much you look forward to the training days. At first I thought it was just because you got to see Rei and your other friends, but you like it, baby, don't you?"

"I _hate_ bucket duty."

Mom chuckled. "I'd be worried if you didn't. It's barbaric what they do to children here." Under the safety of the water, Suki's fingers curled into fists. "Even the Fire Nation doesn't start training children until thirteen."

Suki said nothing.

"Baby girl, I know it hurts, but these people won't accept you even if you become one of their warriors."

Her Mom didn't get it. "I'm going to be a Kyoshi Warrior."

"Why?"

Suki didn't answer.

"Why, baby girl?"

Squirming from her seated position, Suki said, "People like them."

"If anyone of these people found out about _this_ - " Her mom tapped the rim of the bucket. " - then they'd throw you to the Unagi. And they'd make me watch you die. Would you want to make me cry, Suki?"

"N-no."

Mom nodded. "Good."

Suki lowered her gaze and stared at her submerged hands. It hurt to hold her arms up, her _everything_ ached after bucket duty. She just wanted to crawl into bed with her mother and sleep.

"Don't stop yourself," her Mom said. "You've got that look on your face like you've got something to say."

Suki breathed deeply, evenly. In and out. In and out. If she controlled herself then she controlled the Fire. Not looking up from the bucket, Suki said, "K-Kyoshi was a firebender." Her body flushed at saying that last, shameful word.

"Kyoshi was the Avatar," her mother replied, "and no one blames the Avatar for being able to firebend. Besides, she was an earthbender first. Can you earthbend, Suki?"

Suki choked out a quiet, "No."

There was a manic edge to her mother's voice as she leaned forward and took hold of her wrists. "Don't make the mistake of thinking these people will like you for what you are, Suki. This island doesn't have a lot of benders, but they're not going to hold a spot on the Kyoshi Warriors for a _fire_bender. The only place they'll want you is in the Unagi's belly. Are you listening to me?"

She jerked her head into a nod. "Y-y-yes, Mom."

"Have I made myself clear?"

"Y-yes, Mom."

"Good." Gently, Suki's mother pulled up on her wrists, lifting Suki's hands out of the bucket of water. She then let go and handed Suki an old rag with several small holes burned through it. Suki dried off her hands. Mom dipped her fingers into the water. She smiled and pulled Suki into a hug. "Still tepid. You did good, Suki."

Burying her head into the crook of her mother's shoulder, Suki said nothing.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**34. **_**Brilliant But Cancelled**_**; or, a failed experiment in alternate history.**

At Zutarian Headquarters, a team of chrononauts boarded their time machine.

"We'll make certain the show ends the way it was supposed to," their leader promised his team. "Messing with history, what's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**35. **_**To the Victor Goes...**_**; or, the one where Zuko gets Suki wrapped up in a bow.**

Suki leaned on the shovel. "You know, being paraded around like meat wasn't the worst part. It wasn't the fear, either. The uncertainty... _that_ got to me. The stomach souring dread that came with worrying if _tonight_ was the night your brother wasn't going to control himself, that he'd violate me on a whim, that he'd get tried of your little mind game and finally just pawn me and my girls off on his troops.

"I couldn't control anything about my own destiny. So I started obsessing over that day in the forest. Our fight. And I kept wondering what I could have done differently, how I might have won, because that was the last chance I had to avoid being trussed up like a concubine every night for your brother. I imagine you're going through something similar right now.

Six feet down in the pit, a hog-tied Azula screamed unintelligibly behind her gag.

"Thankfully my well-being depended on a guy who actually turned out to be pretty decent." Suki straightened and picked up her shovel. Around the pit, her fellow Kyoshi Warriors did the same. "So I guess the lesson is, if you're going to be at anyone's mercy, make sure it's someone who feels compassion for you, or at least someone who doesn't have a reason to hate your guts.

"I glad we could have this chat."

And with that, the Kyoshi Warriors began filling in the grave.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**36. **_**Under a Bushel**_**; or, the one where Ty Lee is secretly a firebender.**

There were sixteen specific locations on the body that allowed a dim mak user to neutralize someone's bending. One dull winter's day on Kyoshi Island, curiosity led Ty Lee to try striking herself at such a spot.

She spent the rest of the day huddled in front of a blazing fire, thick blankets wrapped around herself, shuddering at the memory of the bone-deep coldness she'd made Azula feel that day.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**37. **_**WANG FIRE, HERO OF THE FIRE NATION**_**; or, the one where the joke's on Azula.**

Limbs bound with rock and the Avatar's staff pinning him to the ground by the throat, Zuko's first response surprised even him. He felt hurt. All those months and the Avatar had been holding back in their fights. Today he'd barely gotten a syllable out before behind beaten down.

The Avatar loosened the pressure on Zuko's throat just enough to allow him to squeak but not enough to create fire. "What do _you_ want?" the boy asked.

If this is how the Avatar was going to react after what happened in Ba Sing Se, Zuko was glad the waterbender wasn't back yet from wherever in the temple she'd gone.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**38. **_**Reconstructed in Pink**_**; or, the one where Ty Lee is the Avatar.**

"Hold her legs down, NOW!"

Long Feng's expression darkened, but he still did as instructed. The Earth King, visibly unsure exactly what to do, tried his best to mirror his former advisor's actions. Together, the two former leaders of Ba Sing Se pinned the squirming Avatar.

Katara regarded Ty Lee. Her friend's upper back was a mass of burnt tissue. That plus the knife freak's lucky strike was bad enough, but what worried Katara was the way Ty Lee's left arm hung limp. She'd never treated a lightning injury before. Jeong-Jeong had no help to offer. Lightning, apparently, was supposed to be _fatal_ technique. If Azula had done this much damage with a glancing hit, Katara could see why that would be true.

"I'm s-sorry," Ty Lee babbled. "Th-th-this is all m-my fault!"

"You shouldn't talk right now," Katara advised, taking Sokka's offered belt. It'd be best if Ty Lee had something besides her tongue to bite down on once the shock wore off.

But the Avatar continued, "If I h-hadn't throw my final exam a year before I f-finally passed, I'd have g-g-g-gotten my tattoos and learned the other el-elements b-b-before the comet c-came and I c-could have stopped the w-war!"

Katara licked her chapped lips, skin still parched from close-quarters combat with firebenders. "Ty Lee, it's... it's not your fault. You didn't know you were the Avatar, okay? If the nuns had told you ahead of time-"

"It IS my fault!" The last airbender jerked up. With her legs pinned, she couldn't move much. Jeong-Jeong crawled over and held down her right arm. Ty Lee started weeping. "Everything's my fault. We l-lost the war because of m-me. My people are d-dead because of me."

For a moment, everyone riding in the saddle was silent.

"Long braids," the Grand Secretariat finally declared, breaking the silence, "are nothing to be ashamed of."

Ty Lee continued sobbing into Appa's saddle.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**39. **_**Avatar 500 in 500: Rival Bid! Part 1**_**; or, the one I'm not actually writing a sequel to.**

Seriously, they're fifty one or two sentence fills. Screw that.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**40. **_**Suki With Fire Nation Characteristics**_**; or, the one where Suki and Zuko swap places.**

The colonial satellite office of the War Ministry is quiet when Qin punches in just before dawn. There are many demands on his time during the daytime, and his evenings are consumed with the political dinners and social events that grease wheels with high command. The mornings alone allow him to concentrate on the real meat of his ministry's mission. Yet on this morning, Qin grunts in irritation at the sight of his office. The wind has blown his balcony doors open, scattering papers everywhere.

Qin turns, shuts the doors, turns back around and finds an cloaked intruder suddenly sitting at his desk.

"Good morning," she says.

Qin dashes for the alarm bell. A yank on its rope, however, brings no sharp ringing for guards.

"I wrapped the clapper in putty."

The War Ministry curses. Not at the bell, but at the intruder. He recognizes her voice now.

"Good morning, Minister Qin."

He folds his hands into his sleeves. "Princess or not, you're trespassing. _And_ banished."

"I need a way to attack the Northern Water Tribe."

"Try sailing north with a white flag raised."

"That's good, but I was hoping for one of your new weapons." She gestures to the paperwork on his desk. Between her cloak and face wrappings, all he can see of her are her gold eyes. Qin doesn't like the gleam in them. "Because according to these, you've been a busy boy ahead of the comet's return. Tanks that can speed across the Agricultural Zone, adapt to being overturned. Ships that can sink and then rise up, ones that fly!" She taps a fingernail on the blueprint rolled out across his desk. "And a giant drill designed by some man who obviously hasn't touched a woman in a long, long time."

"I'm not authorized to give you any of those, Princess Suki. Out of respect for your honored Uncle, I'll let you leave without reporting you."

"You're not getting rid of me," she tells him. "Capturing the Avatar is the only thing I have left. I'll do whatever it takes to achieve that goal."

After learning about what she had done to Commander Zhao, he believes that.

"You're not an idiot," she replied. "You think the Avatar will come back to the Earth Kingdom once he's mastered waterbending? Or will he have an earthbending teacher brought to him?"

"The Fire Lord has ordered a blockade of the North."

"The Avatar's already run one blockade, and my father knows that." The princess comes around the desk. "When the navy attacks, thousands of our fellow sons and daughters of fire will die. We'll take the North, but it'll be a _hard_ fight, much harder than if we waited until summer's end like we've planned for years." Suki looks him in the eye. "And it'll all be for moot if the Avatar just flees before the navy bags him. No son of the Fire Nation could want that to happen."

Qin considers his options. Eventually he decides it can't hurt to hear out a murderous, mission-focused princess. "You plan to attack ahead of the invasion?"

"Yes."

"And if you fail? The Avatar will flee before the fleet can attack."

"Then we won't be wasting the fleet on a pointless attack. But," she adds, "if I do capture him, I'll have your balloon to thank for making it possible to slip past the whole of the North's defenses."

And if she fails, Qin thinks, there won't be an invasion, and her stolen war balloon won't come to light. Even if it somehow does after the scheduled summer invasion, he could pass it off as stolen goods. "...Fine. But I want notes from this 'field test'."

"Excellent! Just have one of them fall off the back of one of those steam-powered wagons you're using now."

Qin tries to ignore the bad feeling he has. "They're called trucks."

"_Trucks_," she says, tasting the new word. "Yes. Have a war balloon fall off a truck."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**41. **_**Yesterday, When the War Ended**_**; or, the one where Aang had to deal with a world that wasn't exhausted enough to accept just any peace.**

"At first we thought it was just an odd spat of crib death," the judge explained, "and then we reasoned it was a vengeful spirit. Eight children in a month..."

Aang waited for the Fire Nation man to collect himself.

"The sage we brought in from North Chung-Ling found no signs of spirits or ghosts, but he remembered a similar case one of his boyhood teachers had talked about, from shortly after the Comet War, when the families of generals and admirals had drowned on dry land."

"It's not exactly drowning," Aang explained, feeling a familiar headache forming behind his temples, one he hadn't felt in almost twenty years. "It's suffocation. The air around them had been thinned to the point they couldn't get enough oxygen."

"Airbenders did this."

Aang nodded. "They called themselves the Crimson Arrow. I thought they were all dead." Not that it especially mattered, he admitted to himself. There was no shortage of hatred for the Fire Nation among the remaining Air Nomads.

The judge flushed with anger. "But why are they killing innocent children in their beds?"

_Because you did it to us first_, he didn't say.

"Ask them once we bring them in," Aang said instead.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**42. **_**Twice a Traitor**_**; or, the one where firebender!Suki defected to Team Avatar.**

"She's right," the Avatar said. "We can't just leave him here."

Atop the sky-bison, Sokka stared forward, reins in hand. "Sure we can. Let's go."

"He'll die," Suki wheezed, bruised body aching in the awful cold of the arctic wasteland. Each inhalation seemed to draw daggers down her throat. Her inner flame had already gone out in this weather and she was still conscious. Zuko wasn't. "This is no place for a fellow warrior to die, Sokka, alone and far from the halls of his forefathers."

Barring gritted teeth, Sokka helped pull Zuko aboard.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**43. **_**Austerity**_**; or, the one about budget cuts. **

Sokka, war paint on, faced down the firebenders doubtlessly bent on destroying his village.

"HE'S GOT A WEAPON!" one of the scarred sailor's body guards shouted.

"Bwha?"

Instantly, Sokka was tackled by three people. In retrospect, it was sort of nice to think about because they were all girls, especially because in the future the bruises had long faded.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**44. **_**Payback**_**; or, the one I regret publishing.**

"Oh good," Sokka says. "You guys have met."

Zuko and Suki avoided looking at each other, or at Sokka.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**45. **_**Man Among Men**_**; or, the one where Pakku introduces a basic scientific fact to AtLA hentai.**

"Kanna, baby, I said I was sorry!"

"I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**46. **_**Fight On**_**; or, the one where Iroh calls out Ozai on his bullshit.**

King Kuei spent his morning reading in the Winter Garden.

It was a recent addition to the Imperial Royal Palace, one of four gardens total; each named for one of the seasons, each dedicated to one of the Four Nations. Though his birth would have him favor the Earth Kingdom's Spring Garden, Kuei was more inclined towards the austere beauty of the Water Tribe's Winter Garden.

As Na Sing Se's climate forbid an honest year-round replica of the polar landscape, chiseled hunks of white marble stood in for icebergs and fine white beach sand - imported from the realm's farthest corner - served as snow. Free water flowed from a dizzying array of fountains built into the 'icebergs'. The fountains rained down on the ground, their soft pattering making for pleasant white noise. The waters ran together and pooled in shallow ponds. There were no plants, no flowers. Just water and symbols of water, truth and lies irrecoverably intermingled to form one whole.

_Perhaps it is no wonder_, the Earth King supposed, as he paused in his reading,_ that I should favor this place so._

An attendant brought Kuei his breakfast - a piece of fresh fruit, a cup of spiced wine, and a plate dressed with a small, sticky pastry - wordlessly setting it down before him and then backing out of the garden. Kuei did not even notice the Dai Li's silent surveillance. He had long since become inured to such insulting limitations now imposed on his royal station.

The sun was closer to its apex than it is to the eastern horizon when he heard the soft, three rhythm tap of a cane walker. A pleasant voice called out, "Good morning, King Kuei."

"Greetings, Prince Lu Ten," Kuei said, sliding a bookmark into place and then settling the slim volume down on his lap. "How are you this fine winter morning?"

Lu Ten, Crown Prince of the Eastern Fire Nation and Guardian Protector of Na Sing Se, smiled as he ambled up to deposed King Kuei's garden table. "Quite fine, friend," he said. "Though I was wondering if I might trouble you for a game of pai-sho."

"Of course." Kuei swept a hand over the tabletop. Beside his breakfast dishes were two silk bags filled with tiles. "Anticipating your request, I took the liberty of arranging a game board."

"Superb! Have I ever told you that you make an excellent hostage, Your Highness?"

Kuei's lips curled into an honest smile. "Only every day."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**47. **_**Maiki**_**; or, the one where Suki inspires a lesbian awakening in Mai.**

Zuko blinked. "Sure, we can try it with me wearing face paint."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**48. **_**Breaking Out**_**; or, the one where Sokka plots a prison escape.**

"Motherfffffff-!" Sokka, face colored wine red, finally slipped his manacled wrist over his toes. He uncoiled his whole body, sagging in relief. "Gah! Ow. Ow ow ow."

Now for step one.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**49. **_**Hymn of Valor**_**; or, the one where Zuko attempts to tell a story.**

"Daddy?" his daughter interrupted one night while he was telling her a bedtime story. "If the bridge was so narrow, why didn't one sage kneel down so the other could just climb over him?"

Zuko choked.

Hundreds of miles away, on Air Temple Island, Aang sneezed.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**50. **_**Black and White and Pink**_**; or, the one where Azula drove Ty Lee crazy (and Ty Lee returned the favor).**

"Sometimes I worry," Mai confessed one night on Kyoshi Island, when they were alone and far from prying ears, "that she'll pull herself together and hurt Zuko."

"Azula is _never_ going to leave that asylum." Ty Lee reached over and squeezed her hand. "Trust me."

Mai almost asked why she should, but hesitated for a reason she could never quite pin down. Periodically, for the rest of her life, Mai would wonder what her friend would have said if she had pressed the issue.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**51. **_**Cultural Exchange**_**; or, the one where fem!Aang has her first period.**

"What's _my_ problem? Someone's been in my room," Zuko, once heir to the Fire Nation throne and perpetual throne in Katara's backside, raged, "and I know it was you!"

"You're being paranoid," Katara said. "And even if I did riffle through your room, _which I didn't_, it's because you don't deserve the benefit of trust."

"Everyone else here is fine with me teaching Aanjing," Zuko said, as if he had the right to use Aanjing's name with such familiarity. "You're the only one who isn't!"

"So what?"

"So this!"

Zuko thrust out a flower.

Katara... stared.

"Well?" the prince demanded. "You already made your point about watching me like an eagletross, you didn't need to leave something like this on my pillow!"

"You're spazzing because someone left you a flower?"

"YES!"

Katara rolled her eyes. "You're so messed up."

"It's a fire lily!"

"And?"

The prince pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fire lilies symbolize life's transience. They only bloom for a few days a year before withering."

"...And?"

"And you don't _give_ people fire lilies! They're death threats!"

"Zuko, it's only a flower."

"And people draw daggers just to show how nice the craftsmanship of the blade is!" The prince's lips drew a mulish line. "Someone wants me gone, and they're not drawing a line in the sand for me like you."

Katara had witnessed Zuko's painfully awkward attempts at conversation around the nightly campfire, but this was a new and pathetic low. "You may not know this, being oh so high and might royalty, but the rest of us have this rare, seldom practiced tradition of giving somebody flowers _because you like them_."

"...What?" He blinked. "You think somebody... likes me?"

Katara made a face. "Only good people get to be martyrs, Zuko. So save it. I've got chores to do and they don't include indulging you."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Zuko tossed his bedroom, sparsely furnished as it was, before turning in for an unrestful night's sleep. The slightest of sounds seemed thunderous in the prince's ears. Recalling Uncle's advice, he had set a bowl down on the stone floor and filled it up to its brim with water. An tunneling earthbender would give themselves away when their vibrations caused the water to spill over. A sewing needle balanced precariously on the room's door handle also acted as forewarning.

Dao resting at his bedside, he waited.

No one came.

Thankfully the next morning was a cloudless one, helping to bolster Zuko. When he arrived at the temple landing for firebending practice, however, the prince found something surprising: the Avatar wearing a dress, armed with two bowls of cubed fruit.

"Good morning!" Aanjing said, her expression sunny enough to fuel Zuko's firebending. "The moon peaches here are sweeter than I remember, but you said firebenders need lots of energy, right?"

Zuko decided, as his initial surprise faded, that it wasn't exactly a _dress_ that his friend was wearing. Aanjing's robes were still folded in the odd manner of the Air Nomads, which left one shoulder bare. What had thrown him off-balance was the embroidering. Zuko could not recall the Avatar's robes ever being decorated before, and certainly not with brillaintly multicolored _flowers and butterflies. _

"What on earth are you wearing?"

Aanjing glanced down at her fancy robes and her mouth made a small 'o', as if the sight was a surprise to her herself. "This old thing? Just something I found the other day when I was combing the temple." She smiled at Zuko. "It's nice to wear something lighter. Back home at the Eastern Air Temple it was pretty cold year-round, but this place is a lot hotter, don't you think?"

Zuko personally found it a tad chilly, but then he'd grown up in the equatorial tropics. "Sure. Okay."

The nun presented him with a fruit bowl. Zuko took a bite of the moon peaches to be polite but nothing more. One didn't eat before morning practice. "Thanks." The fruit's flesh was juicy and tasted almost saccharine. "Aanjing, it's not a good idea to practice your firebending in anything you'd hate to see singed."

"I thought I'd just watch right now. Pick up a few tips from seeing a master at work."

Zuko felt the back of his neck heat at being called a firebending master. He almost corrected Aang, but it was technically true even if he didn't approach the performance level of the rest of his family. "That's not a bad idea."

Stripped down to his waist, the prince began drilling.

Aanjing sighed quietly to herself.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**52. **_**Duketara**_**; or, the one where The Duke crushes on Katara.**

The Duke's wife blinked. "Sure, we can try it with me wearing hair loopies."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**53. **_**First Date**_**; or, the one with genderswapped Maiko meeting cute.**

There are other second dates, for obvious political reasons. Three years is a political lifetime and it wouldn't do to botch her rapprochement with the court by offending anyone. The gifts Zuan grants her half dozen other suitors are not as fine as the kind she prepares for Mao: a set of Piandao knives, personally forged and stamped by the swordmaster himself as part of his yearly production tithe to the Fire Lord, along with one of his dao. Mao, she learned, had been at the top of his combat training classes at the Royal Boys Academy.

Mao's gift to her is similarly martial, if more exotic.

"You strap them around your wrists," he explains. "The coiled springs launch stilettos with enough force to punch through-and-through a target's skull."

Zuan runs her fingers over the gleaming leather and steel contraption. Machinery is more her father's obsession but this could make a convert out of her. It will take some getting used to the weight if she wears them while firebending.

She looks up to thank him, a goofy smile on her face, but the small, satisfied look he gives her tells Zuan that he already knows she loves it.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**54. **_**Big Sister on Campus**_**; or, the one with woobie Azula.**

"Leave your sister and Mai alone," Ursa said. "If they want to read silently together in your father's study all day, let them."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**55. **_**Opposite World**_**; or, the one with a mirror universe.**

The prisoners slept on the sands of Chameleon Bay, their rest aided by the sedatives in the dinner rations. When the Southern Water Tribe ships arrived, there was no meaningful resistance as his agents handed them over to their new masters.

Hakoda, as always, was eager to traded prisoners for explosives and weapons. Long Feng tried not to think about the specifics of how the Water Tribe managed to mine such rich ores in the antarctic. They weren't buying pickaxes and blasting jelly, after all, and benders brought in twice as much per head as non-benders with Hakoda's slavers. How they motivated their workers was no concern of Long Feng's. He had problems closer to home.

Taxes were due again in Na Sing Se, and the Earth Emperor had increased his demands for tribute this year. Apparently he planned to gild all of Shuoma or something equally extravegenat. It was all his Dai Li could do to keep the lid on the pot while still providing enough funds to keep the city's schoolhouses unshuttered.

His people's resistance had to be orderly. Chaos would tear them apart, and the city would never survive a repeat of the Six Hundred Day Rebellion. Thugs knifing drunk soldiers in back alleys needlessly antagonized the occupation forces. Victory would only be possible by changing the right people's minds, then hammering through institutional obstacles with overwhelming force.

There was no Avatar Kyoshi to overthrow a corrupt monarch from oppressing the peasantry this time, or to safeguard the independence of the city and the survival of its revolution within the greater empire. If Long Feng failed, then the Earth Emperor might even force the old ways back on Na Sing Se, a backwards culture with customs that the Dai Li had spent hundred of years rooting out and eradicating. Chin the VII had already dismissed the Diet. Anything was possible if he had cause.

Long Feng wouldn't give it to him, and he wouldn't let him win. No matter the cost.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**56. **_**The Boy from Babel**_**; or, the one where all the Four Nations speak different languages.**

"Um, hello?" Aang slowly crept atop the hill's winding staircase, unsure of how to present himself. The guru's letter had been written in the Awakened Tongue of the airbenders, but even the few people who could still write and read it, like Professor Zei and Zuko, had embarrassed themselves trying to speak it. So he decided to stay safe and approach the guru while speaking Chinish. It might have _verboten_ in Ba Sing Se, but most any traveler usually had at least a sketchy grasp on it. "You're Guru Pathik, right? The person who attached the note to Appa's horn?"

The meditating guru opened his eyes. "Indeed," he said in what was definitely _not_ Chinish. "I was a spiritual brother of your people, and a personal friend of Monk Gyatso."

Aang's cheeks felt chilly, and it took a moment for the Avatar to realize that was because the wind was evaporating the silent tears that now streaked down them. He had never dared to hope he would hear his people's language pronounced correctly again, let alone spoken with the fluency of an airbender.

It was a long time before Aang could stop crying, and then he and the guru talked for a long time.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**57. **_**With Apologies to Eduardo de Valfierno**_**; or, the one where Long Feng is revealed to be Neal Caffrey.**

"You think he stole the artwork? But it was destroyed!"

"I _know_ Long Feng switched the Air Nomad cache with forgeries after Joo Dee's crew pulled it off that salvaged ironclad. That warehouse explosion was just a cover-up." The Grand Secretariat looked to his wife. "And when I prove it, he's going to prison."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**58. **_**12 Clichéd Korra Fanfic Plots**_**; or, the one that's what it says on the tin.**

"What about me?" Bolin asked. "Doesn't Korra ever get shipped with me?"

Korra replied, "Nah. You're too much of a fatty for the fangirls."

"Plus," added Mako, "me and Korra are pretty much the new Zutara already. You and her are more like a Maikka."

Bolin sighed. "[EXPLETIVE DELETED]ing shippers."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**59. **_**Uncle Zuko**_**; or, the one where Iroh is the sixteen year old nephew and Zuko is the old man.**

"It's almost twilight, Admiral," Zuko reminded her. "As your military consultant I must advise you to halt your attack. The waterbenders draw their power from the Moon and it is nearly full tonight. You should wait and resume the attack at daybreak."

"Oh," said Ty Lee. "I'm well aware of the Moon problem and I am working on a solution." Zuko looked askance at her. It wasn't an unfamiliar sensation. Soon, though, no one would be able to look at Ty Lee and mistake her for anyone else. "But for now, daybreak it is."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**60. **_**Dude Ty Lee**_**; or, the one where Ty Lee is a man, man!**

Azula broke her polite hug. "It's great to see you, Mai." She glanced at the lanky, brown-haired man kowtowing behind her friend. "And this must be the lucky man, Tai Li."

He rose, and Azula was struck by how pretty his grey eyes were.

Well. Best friends shared, didn't they?

* * *

. . .

* * *

**61. **_**Walkabout**_**; or, the one with post-war genderswapped Sukka.**

"My sister, the fisherman's wife."

Sonna continued fussing with imaginary wrinkles in her wedding robe. "Hey, if Aang's open to two Water Tribe wives, I'm game."

Katara made a face.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**62. **_**Miscalculation**_**; or, the one where Mai delivers a pre-mortem one-liner.**

There are stupid questions asked repeatedly by dimwits with more medals than sense, but in the end being both a noblewoman and the daughter of New Ozai's governor - himself a long-time ally of the Fire Lord - counts for a lot.

Ty Lee's persona is well-known in their exclusive social circle. Breaking down in tears and hugging your interrogator has a charm all its own for deflecting unanswerable questions. Mai wonders if Azula had really ever been the smart one at all.

She and Ty Lee part company before returning to New Ozai. It's for the best. A member of the royal family died on a mission with them. Show trials have been arranged on less, so there's nothing to be gained in lending conspiracy theories more credence by sticking together like they need to keep each other in line.

(Like Azula would have recruited people that incompetent.)

More importantly, it'll prevent her best friend and her mother from meeting again. Mai's mother always wanted a daughter that loved dresses and flowers. Exposing her mother to the Ty Lee Reality Distortion Field would involve Mai being roped into shopping trips, flower arranging, and day spas.

She and Ty Lee make plans to get together in two years on the autumn equinox, once the Comet has past and things have settled down. Until then it's better not to be seen in each other's company.

Mai never exhales in relief. Not in public. Not even in the dark.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**63. **_**A Cloud As Yet No Bigger Than a Man's Hand**_**; or, the one where Jin goes red.**

The packed drinking hall was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. At the center of everyone's attention was pretty woman with one mutilated hand, her hair prematurely grey. She had come all the way Ba Sing Se to speak with them. "I've served tea under the eyes of firebenders, lost three fingers at a factory run by earthbenders, and swept the floors at a clinic run by waterbenders. There's something I've discovered about benders. They're all the same, whatever their element. All they wanted from me was the work they thought was beneath them. So I became an Equalist."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**64. **_**Almost a Messiah**_**; or, the one where Zhao meets Cthulu.**

The masked Water Tribesmen danced around the firepit, chanting, "Ia! Ia! Tui fhtagn! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Tui Yue wgah'nagl fhtagn!"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**65. **_**Tats**_**; or, the one where Aang inks over Suki's prison tattoo.**

Sokka cradled his slapped check. "Or we _don't_ try it with me dressed like a guard. Because that would be creeptastic."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**66. **_**The Only Way It'll Be Canon**_**; or, the one where Zuko gives Katara a baby.**

Sokka told his pregnant wife, "I guess Maikka wouldn't be a bad name for a boy."

"Eh," said Suki. "I like the sound of Zukka better."

"But we're agreed on Kataang if it's a girl."

Suki nodded. "Oh definitely. Who wouldn't like Kataang?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**67. **_**The Sure-Fire Way**_**; or, the one where Mai is a cultural imperialist.**

"But Mom-"

"I know you don't like red," Ty Lee told her blue-clad daughter. "Just wear it for your Aunt Mai's visit, okay? It'll make her happy."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**68. **_**Ten Bad Miles**_**; or, the one where Aang lives fast and dies young.**

Zuko laughed.

"N-no," Aang said, flustered. "You don't understand. Toph's diabetes is getting really bad. The healers will probably have to amputee her legs below the knee soon. _She actually is going blind._"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**69. **_**The Cradle of the End of the World**_**; or, the one where Aang goes Ice-9.**

"Because I don't like the way he's looking at me. _Duh_."

Mongke almost argued the obvious, but realized it would be pointless. If the master's daughter wished it, then he would cut out the slave's eye. Reasons were redundant out here on the icy wastes of the Curse. "Yes, Lady Toph."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**70. **_**This Year In Jerusalem**_**; or, the one where Aang reunites with his changed people.**

"You... don't like roast duck?" Song asked from across the dinner table.

Aang blanched.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**71. **_**Chain of Flowers**_**; or, the one where disappointing your mother is a Bei Fong family tradition.**

"Young lady," Toph began, "maybe you'd like to explain why you were hiding _this_ under your bed."

"Mom, I can explain-!"

"NO DAUGHTER OF MINE WILL BE A SOAP USER!"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**72. **_**Farewell Letters**_**; or, the one where Katara and Zuko fail to match Sokka's pathos.**

Aang threw an arm over her shoulders. "_I_ would have written you a letter, Toph."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**73. **_**East to West**_**; or, the one where AtLA is deliberately Westernized.**

"Bye, Space Spatha."

Jakobson, eyeing the fire witches lining up on their side of their platform, reflexively tightened his grip on Lady von Blumen's small fingers.

"I don't think tomahawk is coming back, Jessika," he confessed. "I think this might be the end."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**74. **_**Refining Fire**_**; or, the one where Jeong-Jeong, not Iroh, is Zuko's uncle.**

"Even if a hatchling ignores the delicacy of moths in favor of staring into the majestic sun above, do the delicate wings of the moth still not cast shadows across the hatchling's face and remind it of the out-shined beauty?"

Zuko paused. "So you... _do_... want sugar with your tea?"

"Yes! But just one."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**75. **_**The Burned Bandit**_**; or, the one where Toph and Azula switch lives.**

A wide spread of chain-lightning blasted away the northeast portion of the ghost town, forcing Uncle Snoozels, Zuzu, and the Avatar's little gang to all take cover.

"Okay," Princess Toph declared, her own thunder echoing in her ears as she rose off the ground on a pillar of flame. "Fuck this noise! No more going easy on the enemies and traitors and little bald monks! I'm taking all y'all on RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW! SO **BRING! IT! ON!**"

The boy crouching between the Avatar and his little waterbender girltoy asked, "Wait. She's been going _easy_ on us?"

Toph laughed and said, "You bet your a-"

A sliver of rock shot through the air and sliced Toph's cheek open just below her useless left eye. The princess dropped to the ground in shock. Wheeling about, she spotted the telltale heat of a living body and the faint outline of a large rock that the body was casually tossing in one hand.

"Please allow me to introduce myself," said the newcomer. "I'm a woman of wealth and taste."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**76. **_**The Piandao Method**_**; or, the one where Sokka gets his Player Character on.**

The boomerang struck the assassin in his forehead and he exploded... into gold coins. Zuko stared on in horror at the impossible sight, unable to defend himself against the bits of metal pelting him.

"WHAT THE-?" Sokka shouted down below. "Combustion Man was totally worth a Heart Piece!"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**77. **_**The Safety Belts**_**; or, the one where Korra sees how the other half lives.**

Amon asked, "You're certain she was the Avatar?"

"Oh yeah. It took me a while, but new haircut or not her picture is in the paper all the time."

"And what did you learn?"

"Well, she's a _great_ kisser."

Amon managed to glare through his all-concealing mask.

"Er... well, she's an alright kisser, I guess."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**78. **_**Merry Agnimas**_**; or, the one where I'm less subtle than usual, and that's saying something.**

"Omaukkah is more of a Fire Nation Colony earthbender thing, Sparky."

"So you _don't_ want your chocolate coins?" Aang asked, reaching.

Toph slapped his hand away. "I didn't say that."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**79. **_**Scars**_**; or, the one better titled Iroh-ny.**

Several years later, Fire Lord Zuko sat up in his bed one night. "Waaaait a minute..."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**80. **_**Duty**_**; or, the one where Zuko pulls a volunteer vacation on Kyoshi Island.**

In the middle of the night, Sokka rolled over. "He didn't _really_ eat you, did he?"

Then Suki said, "Go back to sleep, Sokka."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**81. **_**Loyalty and Rewards**_**; or, the one where Azula offers up Zuzu to Mai.**

"So I've decided to renegotiate our contract."

Across from Mai, in her padded cell, Azula continued to babble mindlessly to herself.


	83. Dark Mirror Sukka

.

**A/N:** _Inspired by a forum post of Loopy's, who bandied about a few ideas about who could provide a suitable nemesis in a Sukka fic, as that couple often lacks good dramatic foils in shippy stories set post-canon._

* * *

.

**DARK MIRROR SUKKA**

.

* * *

Fat and I circled one another, each seeking a weakness in the other's form. That was purely training showing through. Neither of us were under and conscious delusion that this could be settled cleanly. It would be steel against steel.

"Don't make me kill you," I warned him.

"You shame your master's face. You shame yourself, Lee."

"My master shamed himself!" I barked back. "He made a mockery of the Art by taking on that Water Tribe lout as his 'student'. He betrayed his debt of honor to that boy by sending him off to war with, what, two days training?" I laughed without mirth. "That and a sword. A magnificent sword that likes the world has never seen, wielded by one entirely unready for its privilege, and then the boy THREW! IT! AWAY!"

I threw myself at him.

Fat weathered my assault, proving that the old warhorse had been holding back on me all these years after all. Even pouring everything I had into this match, my youth and speed were no match for his seasoned warrior's acumen.

Yet the man was still holding back.

Perhaps he saw me as some sort of wayward son. Still savable.

His mistake.

Enthralled in our fight, Fat spared no presence of mind for stone beneath his feet, and so was caught unawares when it surged upwards and enveloped his lower body.

"Earthbending?" Fat gasped.

A woman slunk out of the darkness then, and under the moonlight her painted face positively glowed. I smiled at Kirai's timing. My eyes, however, lingered on the way her collapsed war fan, tucked into her belt, called attention to the curve of her hip. Like the Way of the Sword, no one nation held a monopoly on beauty.

"Lee," Fat said, "don't be a fool. Even with her in your pocket, you have no hope of defeating the Master."

Kirai hissed, "I am in no man's pocket!"

"She really isn't. Kirai's vendetta is her own." I sheathed my sword for the last time. I had forged it with the guidance of my former master. That chapter in my life was over, and my honor would not tolerate its continued presence. "And in the future, for the sake of your health, I would caution against insulting the pride of a Kyoshi Warrior."

Fat regarded Kirai with a new understanding now, and as his eyes traced the curve of her cheek and nose I could see him putting together two and two. Despite her midnight black hair, the family resemblance between Kirai and her little sister was quite unmistakable.

"...No," Fat whispered. "No. You are not a murderer, Lee."

I smirked. "Not yet."

"Your quarrel is with the Master! Leave the boy out of this!"

_Honestly_. "How can I, old man? He involved himself."

"Lee!" Fat called out. "LEE!"

We left him there. What we wanted wasn't far.

Kirai shivered as she touched it, reverent. I can't say I blamed her. Even leaving aside the marvel forged from it, how often did one lay eyes on space earth?

She said, "There's enough here for twenty swords. More."

"We only need two."

One jian. One katana. Enough for satisfaction. Enough to set right those who wronged us.

Together, Kirai and I got to work.


	84. Seeing Red

**A/N: **_Spoiler warning through "The Promise Trilogy: Volume 1."_

* * *

.

**SEEING RED**

.

* * *

The customs officer halted mid-motion, glancing up at Kori and then back down at her passport before finally setting his stamp aside. He then took a second inkpad and fresh stamp out from his desk. Kori's jaw clenched at the sight of the wet green mark that now stained her passport.

"What's this?" She drummed a finger on the offending page. "Why does this say that I'm Earth Kingdom?"

"Because over here," he said, pointing, "it says you're an earthbender."

"So? I'm a citizen just like you!" She'd hardly be sneaking into the capital to assassinate a treasonous Fire Lord if she kowtowed towards Ba Sing Se. That idiot Zuko was giving the Earth Kingdom everything it could ever want!

"Look," whispered the customs officer, leaning forward with a sympathetic mask put on. "I know they do things differently in the colonies, but this is the Fire Nation."

_So are the colonies_, Kori bit back, her duty to Yu Dao alone keeping her from grabbing this idiot by his collar and hauling him over for a personal lesson in geography. Her home was doomed if she got arrested while the Fire Lord still lived.

He continued, "I can't do anything about the law. It is what it is."

"Meaning I better take it up with the Fire Lord, huh?" Kori swiped her passport back. "Maybe I will."

Trading back his green stamp for a red one, he looked past her like she wasn't even there anymore. "Next!"


	85. An Avatar of Mars

_._

**_A/N:_**_ This is very much a Future Fic. _

* * *

.

**AN AVATAR OF MARS**

.

* * *

Huo Hsing, they called it. The name meant _Fire Star_.

Poets throughout the ages wrote of its peculiar red light. Sages and charlatans alike divined meaning from its dance in the heavens. Astronomers tallied careful notes of the planet's motion and divined the laws of celestial mechanics. Yet for all that, for a long time, Huo Hsing was simply another point of light among thousands in the night sky.

But it would become more.

* * *

. . .

* * *

There would be a press event later, with pics and vids aplenty to be streamed back home from the United Huo Hsing Sphere Republic, but that spectacle could wait a few hours. For now it was just the two of them alone. Him, the greying airbender. Her, the beanpole schoolgirl. Together they strolled down the green aisles of some deserted hydroponics station, trading small talk as they seized up one another.

How was his voyage? (Long, but good for catching up on his reading.) Was he adjusting to the lower gravity all right? (Yes.) How were her academic studies going? (Well enough.) Had she decided on a major yet? (She was torn between International Relations and Gengineering.) What did she do for fun? (Exercise. Fortune-telling.) Did her bending tutors needle her as much to constantly practice as his had?

It was the subject of bending that finally broke through the thin, icy skin of tension between them.

"You know," Monk Yinsen remarked to his counterpart, "it's strange. I've talked to other Avatars about my life before, but they were always dead."

Rei Yoruno, the first Avatar of Huo Hsing, asked, "What's it like?"

"No different from this."

That disappointed her. Or maybe he was misreading her body language. Like nearly all those born and raised in the lighter gravity characteristic of their system's fourth planet, Rei had to stoop over to meet a third worlder's eyes during conversation.

Rei said, in an even tone, "I'm glad, then. I wanted to have this sort of thing at least once." _In case being the Avatar of this world isn't the same as being the one of yours_, she didn't add.

It was a metaphysical question that had raged across the two worlds of humanity since Rei Yoruno had accidentally bent fire _and_ air in gym class. Huo Hsing had been an empty waste until the first permanent research base had brought the cycle of life and death to it a century ago. Had the planet no intrinsic spirit until then? Or had a dormant one been woken? And what was its character compared to that of the homeworld's?

All interesting questions, but they weren't academic to the girl whose spirit faced immortality or oblivion depending on their outcome.

Yinsen had no answers for the girl, but there was one thing he did have. Raising his arm, he offered his hand to his fellow Avatar. "Then know I'm pleased to talk with you, Avatar Yoruno."

She stared at his calloused palm, unsure of herself. Being the Avatar of this red planet, Yinsen knew, didn't carry the same weight he possessed back home. Perhaps it was a lack of history, or may just the lack of firepower. Rei Yoruno wasn't going to bore moholes into the mantle and single-handedly bend the ice caps into oceans like he soon would. She had no past lives to call upon for power or guidance. But, Yinsen liked to think, she did have a brother.

Slowly, Rei Yoruno took his hand. "And I you, Avatar Yinsen."


	86. The Fire Lances

.

**THE FIRE LANCES**

.

* * *

The prisoners were _wrong_.

General Iroh knew it at once. Their hair, cropped in the manner of outcasts, nonetheless gleamed with the healthy luster afforded only by nobles. Stranger still were their features. The man on the right, his skin an unhealthy pallor, boasted comically wide blue eyes. The man on the left...

His curious disfigurement could have had any number of mundane explanation; what did not - _could not_ - was this prisoner's body temperature. An aged master like Iroh could sense it through his firebending. No man could have blood so icy and still be fully conscious. It was physiologically impossible.

The cold-blooded _thing_ simply stared straight ahead as he was inspected. The posture was casual, relaxed even. Iroh wasn't fool enough to think the prisoner wasn't studying him just as closely in turn.

The rage Iroh had carried since the depot explosion, anger at both the irreplaceable materiel loss, vanished at once. He needed to be cautious around these chained men.

"Trespassing," Iroh began. "Impersonating an officer. Destruction of military property. These are ALL punishable by death."

Neither prisoner spoke.

"But... I am not a cruel man. If you answer my questions truthfully, you will even find me to be merciful."

The other, human prisoner glared at Iroh. "Merciful? Is that what you call burning a man alive without warning?"

"You're saboteurs," Iroh countered. "The fact we bothered taking some of your party alive to interrogate was an indulgence on the part of my soldiers."

"Surely," said the Cold Man, "the continued safety of your base would be better assured by gaining information on the source of threats to it, rather than merely neutralizing security breaches."

"Good God, man, don't give the devils advice!"

"I was merely pointing out the illogic of his statement."

"I know who you are," Iroh said. Torn from their private squabble, the prisoners glanced askance at him. "You made this."

The crown prince of the Fire Nation pulled a hand out of his pocket and leveled a fire lance at the blue-eyed prisoner.

There was a moment of surprise on the man's pale face, but his expression quickly hardened. Rare was the man who could stare down the Dragon of the West, but here General Iroh found such a specimen. "Well, either shoot me or say something. Make up your mind."

"Who are you?"

"You already said you knew, remember?"

"Answer my question."

"I'm a healer being held at gunpoint."

Iroh lowered his weapon. He couldn't help by smile tightly at the sabetour. "If the men of the Earth Kingdom had one tenth of your bravery, even these fire lances wouldn't have been enough to push through the Outer Wall."

"You'll forgive me if I don't blush, taking a compliment from a tinpot Napoleon."

The Dragon of the West filed that strange title away for a future interrogation. "Those who crafted a device with the power of one hundred firebenders should possess equal spirit. Who else but a superior breed could fashion such technology?" The general turned over the foreign weapon in his hands. Its sleek grey and black exterior belied the raw destructive force sleeping within. "Our people are alike in that way, even if yours chooses to hide away across the sea while my kind seeks our rightful place under the sun."

"Across the sea...?"

"There's no sense denying it." Boyish wonder filled Iroh. The Setting Sun Sea covered a whole half of the globe; so vast it hopelessly wrecked any map that tried to incorporate it to scale. Why waste half your parchment with featureless blue ink when the Four Nations were all that was important? Yet there had always been myths of about the Setting Sun Sea. Lost continents and lion-turtles alike were said to make their home there. As Iroh well knew from the Sun Warriors, there was far more to the world than common knowledge claimed.

"The general is correct," said the Cold Man to his companion. "Denying the obvious would be impertinent, Healer."

"Ah. Right."

"I must admit," Iroh said, "that I'm almost more curious about your homeland than I am about these fire lances. What do your people even call themselves?"

Neither prisoner spoke.

Iroh pointed the fire lance between their chairs and pulled the trigger. A shrieking beam of blue light shot out, blasting a cabbage-sized hole in the stone ground.

Iroh shifted his aim to the blue-eyed man's left foot.

"The Federation," the Cold Man answered, tone still bland and impersonal. "We call ourselves the Federation."

"A federation of... what? Islands? Villages? Cities?" How big was the homeland of these strangers? Iroh had to know. This Federation was the greatest potential threat to his people since the Avatar. They were clearly protective of the fruits of their marvelous industry.

"Nations," said the blue-eyed man. "It's a federation of nations."

Iroh mulled that notion. The implication that some Air Nomads potentially survived across the sea was troubling enough, but the idea that there were Fire Nationals who spurned rule by their rightful lord was simply hateful.

Unless...

"Which nation rules this Federation?" They had to be oppressing the Fire Nationals that clearly lived among them. Who else could fashion such an ingenious weapon as the fire lance but Iroh's own race?

"No one nation rules the Federation," the Cold Man explained. "Everyone has an equal voice in our government."

Iroh opened his mouth to scoff at that, then caught himself. The truth was obvious if you gave it a half-second's thought. "Who runs the military?" That was where the real authority had to lie.

"Officers and non-commissioned officers are welcomed from all members of the Federation, just as they are in all other walks of life."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Is it so hard to believe?" The blue-eyed man gestured to his partnet as much as he could, chained as he was to his interrogation chair. "Take this pointy-earred hobgoblin. His mother is from Earth, like me, but his father is from Vulcan."

The Cold Man added, "Your own nation practices multiculturalism. We talked with soldiers from your colonies. Some of them had wives and children who are geokinetics."

"Those are the _colonies_," Iroh countered, "and just because it's not practical to ban intermarriage there doesn't make miscegenation morally right."

"God Almighty," said the blue-eyed man, voice thick with disgust, "do you ever listen to the hot air coming out of your mouth?"

"Who are you to lecture a prince of the Fire Nation on morals? You snuck inside my camp to destroy what the Fire Nation lawfully salvaged from that airship crash. You failed." Iroh raised the fire lance at the blue-eyed man's chest. "And now you're going to make up for it."

"The hell we are!"

"You're in no position to argue," Iroh said. "Escape is impossible, and if you think that the Earth Army is going to save you then you're dead wrong. You may have destroyed most of our fire lances, but _this_," he waved his weapon, "and the others will be more than enough to hold back Kuei's hordes."

The Cold Man cocked an eyebrow. "If those 'fire lances' are indeed enough to hold the line, then why are you asking us to provide more of them?"

"Because more is better!" Iroh laughed, but his smile quickly waned. "It took five of these fire lances to crack the Outer Wall. With _fifty_ of them, the war would be over in weeks. No rebellion could ever hope to resist us. The world would have eternal peace within our lifetimes."

Iroh had never dared hope for such a thing, before. The thought of losing it was too bitter to endure.

"There is a crude logic to _argumentum ad baculum_," the Cold Man admitted, "but I am afraid that your thesis has two fatal flaws. Firstly, not only will we not teach you how to build 'fire lances', but we cannot supply them to you. Every officer of the Federation swears an oath to sacrifice their life if necessary rather than let our technology fall into the hands of developing cultures. Torturing us will prove quite fruitless."

Iroh said, "Your superiors-"

"Will honor our sacrifice." Nothing in the Cold Man's tone, nor in his blue-eye companion's stony expression, suggested falsehood. "Secondly, there were exactly seven 'fire lances' aboard the crashed shuttlecraft your troops found. We confiscated the one sent back to the War Ministry laboratory in your capital along with the rest of the shuttle salvage, and we set the five you used here at Ba Sing Se to self-destruct. That means the one you are pointing at us is the last one left. Judging by the indicator light, the battery is almost drained. Thus your claim that you can hold off the impending attack of the Earth Kingdom 'horde' is an empty one."

"NO!" Iroh shouted, arm trembling with both rage and fear. "My soldiers have families! Wives! Children! Your fire lances are the only thing that can save them!"

"You're wrong," said a new voice.

Iroh wheeled around. A fire lance screeched, and it was not his own. The weapon in Iroh's hand exploded. He roared in pain, dropping the smoking, half-melted fire lance and clutching his bloodied hand. Iroh knew his burns The flesh was superficially singed but otherwise undamaged.

The newcomer held his weapon on Iroh, but the killing blow never came. Instead the newcomer used his free hand to remove the skull plate face guard from his stolen uniform. There was no hatred in the man's hazel eyes, only concern for his comrades.

"In the corner," he ordered Iroh. "Nice and slow."

The general obeyed.

"Took you long enough," the blue-eyed man grunted.

"Apologies, Bones. Security's been pretty tight. Fortunately the locals just launched a counterattack in the east. Do you need a hand?"

The Cold Man snapped out of his restraints: left arm, right arm, left leg, right leg. He moved over to the blue-eyed man and broke the steel restrains with his bare hands.

"Or not," said the newcomer. He looked back at Iroh, who was busying starring in disbelief. "You claimed you were concerned for your men's lives. Prove it. Pull back behind the Outer Wall. Break the siege."

"And then what?" Iroh asked, suddenly feeling very tired. "We'll never be able to conquer Ba Sing Se until the comet returns, and then millions will die. The world's greatest and most ancient city will be burnt to ashes. The fire lances were our only chance to take the city bloodlessly."

"There's never anything bloodless about war," the newcomer declared. "If you're as concerned for the people of Ba Sing Se as you say you are, end the war. Make peace with them."

Iroh laughed mirthlessly. "You make it sound so easy. Should I just invite the Earth King over for tea?"

"It's not easy. Peace never is. But what's the alternative? Death. Destruction. A battle without victors, a war to end all wars, with only the hollow-eyed survivors left to eek out their lives amidst the rubble of shattered dreams. Is that really the glorious, honorable cause you've dedicated your life for? Is that the world you want for your son?"

Iroh said nothing.

"And even if you win this war, despite the price in blood, what about the future? Do you think you can keep the whole world under your boot heel forever? The people of the Earth Kingdom _will_ rise up, one day. Because if there's one universal truth about the human race, it's that our spirit is indomitable."

"And despite what you might think to the contrary," the blue-eyed man added, "shooting fire from your fists doesn't make you a separate species, let alone a superior one. You and your enemies are human, just like the rest of us." He glanced at the Cold Man. "Present company excepted."

The Cold Man nodded in silent thanks.

The hazel-eyed man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black and gold rectangle. "I've heard your men talk highly of you, General Iroh. They'd walk barefoot through Hell itself if you give the word. Choose peace. They'll support you."

"...I'm sorry, but it's too late for peace."

"Is that doubt I hear?" The hazel-eyed man raised the black-and-gold box to smiling lips. "Kirk to _Enterprise_. Three to beam up."

The music of unseen instruments filled the air, and the three foreigners dissolved into starlight. Slowly, hesitantly, Iroh stepped out of his corner and moved over to where they had stood. He reached out with trembling fingers and grasped empty air.

General Iroh arrived at his command tent in a daze. His entire staff had already gathered there in silence. There was no sound of fighting in the distance, so the earthbenders' probe had clearly been repulsed. This time. Iroh opened his mouth to explain the loss of their last fire lance, of their prisoners, of what he had seen and learned, but couldn't find the words.

And then the Dragon of the West noticed that Major Mongke was cradling Lu Ten's battered helmet in his hands.


	87. On the Wagon

.

**On the Wagon**

.

* * *

Pai Sho.

A fine meal.

A good pot of tea.

Modest, transitory pleasures for a soft old man. They are all Iroh really needs from the world. He _knows _this, now. But sometimes the Dragon of the West feels himself slipping. The old scars on his arms needle him. He catches himself humming half-forgotten cadences calls rather than songs about pretty girls. He stares at the game board for too long and the tiles begin to look like troop markers.

So when old habits threaten, Iroh thinks of Zuko. The rest is easy.


	88. The King Is Dead, Long Live the King

.

**The King Is Dead, Long Live the King**

.

* * *

From his private office underneath Lake Laogai, the Grand Secretariat again cursed the existence of cherries, cherry pits, and the incompetent concubines who didn't know how to properly extract the latter from the former. Twenty years of carefully grooming Kuei from oblivious child-king to oblivious man-child king lost because of a _choking hazard_.

Long Feng would have to start all over again, properly conditioning a new Earth King to ensure the Dai Li's - and thus his own - iron grip on the city. Because Kuei had fathered no sons on any of his concubines protocol demand they crown his closest living male blood relation, who wasn't very closely related given Long Feng's previous pruning of the royal family tree to secure Kuei's station from potential rivals. Worst of all, that meant someone on the throne who knew about Prince-General Iroh's current siege.

The Army barely respected the Dai Li's authority as it was. If the Earth King was willing to lend his ear to the army, control of Ba Sing Se could fall to the military. The nobility would never stand for that, meaning there'd be infighting that would weaken the city's defense during a critical period. Worse, the Earth King might start getting bright ideas and dictate military strategy, weakening the city's defenses. Morale had already been gutted by the Earth King's untimely death. It wouldn't take much more for a general collapse.

Everything from this point on depended on the new Earth King, a complete enigma who had spent his whole life slumming in the Middle Ring. There was almost no information on the man, a relatively impoverished noble related to Kuei through their grandfather, other than that he ran a successful carpet cleaning business and owned a small dog. Parents deceased. No siblings. No children. No wife. No girlfriend. No lover, past or present.

Long Feng read through the thin file for the umpteenth time, hoping to gleam some additional insight from the paucity of clues on the man about to be crowned as his nation's (nominal) leader. Again, Long Feng's eye kept catching on the only odd fact about an otherwise exceptionally unexceptional man.

"What the hell kind of name is 'Vetinari'?"


	89. AtLA 500 in 500: Rival Bid! Part 2

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**A/N: **_A lot of my shorter drabbles spin out of the 'Avatar 500' drabble contest, where every two weeks or so there's a new round centered on a different theme. Sometimes the contest writers take 25 prompts and fill them all in one drabble amounting to exactly 500 words. Reposted below are two entries of mine in that category, so 50 prompts for a total of 1000 words (minus the bolded numbering and theme names). Ignore FFnet's alternative word count. It adds things up oddly._

_There's some LoK stuff here, which will be the last time I'll feature it in this archive, barring the odd AtLA-centric crossover. I've started a second collection,_ The Countrycide Chronicles,_ for my Korra-centric short fics. See my profile if you're interested._

.

* * *

**AtLA 500 in 500: Rival Bid!**

**Part 2 of ?**

* * *

.

**#51 - door:** "If you think a Kyoshium bomb is workable, I can get you five minutes with the Earth King."

Omashu's Physics Department collectively blinked.

"Being the last airbender has its benefits," explained Jinora.

**#52 - party:** No more Equalists, or gangs, or rampant crime. All it took was a revolution of their own. And if people feared Lin's armband more than her badge, that was a small price to pay for peace.

**#53 - rules:** As they hauled the Avatar away, Lin pointed to the broken, bloodied mask on the ground. "Photograph that, _then_ bag it. No mistakes tonight."

**#54 - blue:** "I wish," Tenzin confessed to Pema, "we could go more than one generation without someone trying to exterminate us."

**#55 - fire:** "When you talked about us bootlegging," Roku told Gyatso, "I thought you were serious."

"Covert pie baking _is_ serious!"

**#56 - celebrate:** "Happy birthday, Korra."

"Master Tenzin, you remembered!"

Out in the bay, Aang's statue stood tall.

**#57 - mercy:** Mako held his heel against his defeated foe's windpipe.

The Phoenix Queen gave the thumbs down.

**#58 - silence:** "Arise, you prisoners of starvation!" she shouted through the tools helpfully provided by the bourgeois press, whose jaws hung low. "Arise, you wretched of-"

Tenzin wrestled the podium away. "That's all the questions the Avatar will take."

**#59 - escape:** Whenever she felt restless, Korra would pore over the international travel schedules hidden under her futon.

**#60 - fanatic:** "Who are you, the Avatar's fan girls?"

Mai said, "So... they might be shippers?"

Azula paled. "Retreat!"

**#61 - speech:** "I'm Korra, your new Avatar?"

"Damn it. Who typed a question mark on the teleprompter?"

**#62 - anonymous:** "Mako can't save his brother," he donned his cowl, "but Wolfbat-Man can!"

**#63 - between:** "I want you to meet my brother, Mako."

"Is _that_ what you're telling people?"

"YOU said WE were on a break!"

"So that means you trot these floozies around?"

"I should go," Korra said.

**#64 - green:** "Are you sure this is wise, Iroh? Lu Ten is young for a front-line command."

"He'll be fine, Father."

**#65 - air:** "But air is the element of freedom, Sokka!"

"Go downwind if you wanna pass gas."

**#66 - regret:** "I chose your guardians poorly," Aang told Korra. "The White Lotus robbed you of something precious."

"Glad to know my life's been a big mistake."

**#67 - world:** "If you shoot me up there, I can bend it off course."

The world's leaders collectively blinked.

"What?" Korra said. "An asteroid is just a big rock."

**#68 - revisit:** "Lather up this spot on my back, nephew. I can't reach."

"Ten thousand ostrich-horse weren't worth this."

**#69 - temple:** "...and I'll build the temple on that island over there."

"Aang, what island?"

"The one I'll put there."

**#70 - chakra:** "AVATAR, WAIT!" Pathik shouted at the fleeing sky-bison. "A sharp rock to your back can work in a pinch!"

He paused. "Probably should've mentioned that first."

**#71 - equal:** _"Okay. Three-on-three plus Sokka."_

Bolin shivered as the cinema dropped ten degrees.

**#72 - patience:** _The next one_, Pema assured herself for the third time, _will be like me_.

**#73 - revolt:** "Yes, target my coordinates!" Lin screamed into the radio. "We're being overrun!"

**#74 - isolation:** _Omashu Joins Sanctions, Adds to Economic Woes Under Chairman Amon_

**#75 - thrill:** "Wanna see a dead body?" the vagabond asked.

"...No," said Korra.

"Me neither."

**#76 - space:** "FIRE FOR THE FIRE LORD!"

"THE AVATAR PROTECTS!" Chaindao held high, he turned to his troops. "Men of the Southern Air Temple, _do you want to live forever_?"

**#77 - lotus:** "Master Tenzin, my legs are stuck."

"Again?"

**#78 - truce:** "As long as the workers have common cause," Hiroshi Sato explained, "they could organize. I need them divided against themselves."

"I'm just an actor," Amon replied. "What do you want, me to put on a show?"

"Something like that."

**#79 - tomb:** "Now remember," Gyatso said, "we don't jump out and yell 'SURPRISE' until _after_ Aang sees the fake bones."

**#80 - tryst:** Asami screamed.

"My eyes!"

"C'mon, Bo! I left my scarf on the doorknob!"

**#81 - kind:** "You tried to kill my boyfriend," Mai said.

Kori tensed.

"That's basically how he makes all his friends."

**#82 - greed:** "The studio thinks your portrayal of the Earth Kingdom won't play well in that market. I mean, five guys to bend one rock? Everyone living in dirt villages?"

"That's because they lack_ vision_!"

**#83 - loyalty:** "I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son."

"...Shit, really?" Ozai backed off.

**#84 - hide:** On Ji slapped his hand away. "If you can't dance then you're no boyfriend of mine."

**#85 - creep:** Ursa sat in Ozai's lap. "Up for a game of Fire Prince and waterbender POW?"

**#86 - mood:** "Seal jerky dipped in chocolate, now!"

"But Pema! Your vows!"

"My vows aren't pregnant!"

**#87 - lie:** Senna asked, "And if we don't want our little girl taken away?"

The sage replied, "That's your choice."

**#88 - circle:** "But Grandmother-!"

On Ji silenced the teen. "I won't have that deviant jazz 'music' in _my_ house!"

**#89 - look:** "Hey, is that the Avatar?" Gyatso pointed.

The firebenders turned as one.

**#90 - find:** Amon said, "After he killed my parents, that firebender asked me, 'You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?'"

In the audience, Mako gasped.

**#91 - character:** "'See what kind of _man_ Zuko is?'" Kya spat, "He's a _FIREBENDER_, Katara!"

**#92 - stare:** "I read the original series when I was your age," Jinora said, "but this sequel just isn't as good. Chapter Five? Total filler."

"Huh?" said Ikki. "But I really really really liked that one!"

"Nothing happened."

"There was kissing and romance!"

"What about the villain?"

Ikki gasped. "Do you think he likes the princess?"

"..."

**#93 - glass:** "Think of the glass being half-full, Prince Zuko. We have three square meals, hot showers-"

"-soap we don't dare drop."

**#94 - weak:** "A brilliant plan, Azula," the Fire Lord said, "except that hope is an emotional state. _Meaning. It. Can't. Burn._"

**#95 - knock:** "Bro!" Bolin called up. "You and Asami gettin' busy?"

"...Not anymore."

**#96 - run:** "Today we take back Republic City, together! My name is Korra, and I'm running for mayor."

**#97 - truth:** "Without another earthbender, all my plans are suddenly possible." Oma raised her dagger. "I have a vision for the future, Shu."

**#98 - whisper:** Korra asked, "And does the spirit have a name?"

"..."

"Louder," Ikki prompted.

The spirit whispered, "Fluttershy."

**#99 - wise:** Zuko asked, "So how did The Talk with Aang-"

"He knew," Sokka said.

"Knew what?"

"_Everything._"

**#100 - betray:** Aang reeled back. "Katara! Zuko! HOW COULD YOU!"

"We - we couldn't deny ourselves!"

Zuko added, "Your birthday cake just looked so delicious!"


	90. Based On a True Story

.

**Based on a True Story**

.

* * *

As the impromptu lynch mob seized any actor or actress hadn't had the good sense to book it, Team Avatar did what it did best: retreat. In short order they were hustling down the coastline away from the now-burning theater, the enraged shouting of the audience filling the cool night air.

"That... wasn't a good play," declared Zuko.

"I'll say," Aang said. "I mean, the ending was nice. Up until the audience swarmed the stage."

Katara asked, "Wasn't it weird how a Fire Nation play had them lose the war? And me beat Azula? And what was with that lion-turtle?"

"I liked the part where Azula went insane," Suki said, "but the lion-turtle just came out of nowhere. That really needed more set-up."

Toph snorted. "You got that right. And who ever heard of being able to take away someone's bending?"

"HEY!" someone shouted back down the footpath. "MORE UNPATRIOTIC COSPLAYERS! GET 'EM!"

"Oh man!" Sokka shouted. "Everybody RUN!"


	91. Dice & Dharma

.

**Dice & Dharma**

.

* * *

"J-Jessica?"

"What is _she _doing here?"

"Relax, britches. I'm not here to make trouble."

"Jessica asked if she could rejoin us," the Game Master, Bryke, explained to the group, "and promised not to play a villain again - openly or otherwise."

Mae said, "She could be Lawful Good and still find an excuse to summon another volcano god!"

"Hey!" said Jessica, sitting at the game table. "You guys got a lot of XP from that session, didn't you?"

"That village was full of innocent people, including your mentor!"

"That 'village' was a couple of hexagons Bryke drew out on a sheet of paper."

"It should have meant something to your character!"

"Whatevahs. Are we gonna roll dice or not?"

"A clairvoyant could be handy," Zach admitted, ignoring Mae's stink eye, "but why would our characters let Meng back into their party after last time?"

"No worries." Jessica explained, "I rolled a new character. Bryke even came up with some bitchin' backstory to keep Mae happy."

The Game Master said, "Why don't we get started?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

_You arrive at the Bei Fong compound, which is patrolled by numerous uniformed guards. Above the main gate is an emerald-and-gold crest emblazoned with a winged boar._

"Hey, I know that boar!" Aang exclaimed.

Katara said, "They're the slavers who kidnapped our people and created that waterbender hunting reserve in Foggy Swamp!"

"If they're that rich," Sokka said, "they must have a lot of loot."

Katara sneered. "Don't you think about anything but loot?"

"Hey, I just got a new purse. Why not put it to use?"

Aang said, "We sneak around the side, looking for an opening in the patrols."

_You're in luck. A half-hour's patience finds you a small gap in the patrols. _

"We hop over the walls."

_You find yourselves in an immaculately landscaped garden. Underfoot is a trimmed, lush lawn. There are bushes and trees all around. A short distance away, you hear a brook babbling._

Sokka rubbed his hands together. "We sneak over to the nearest bush and peak around, casing the joint."

_Roll for success._

"...Crap."

_A one, huh? The lawn erupts beneath you, tossing everyone high into the air. Roll for save._

"Eighteen," said Aang.

"Nineteen," said Katara.

_You each land in a convenient bush, breaking your falls. No damage._

"One," Sokka cursed.

_You face-plant into the hard ground and take damage._

_Aang, you look up to find an elegantly dressed girl looming over you. It's the Bei Fong's prized arena slave you tried to free last night, now garbed in fine silks._

"Hi, Zach," Toph said.

Katara snapped, "Don't break character!"

"Whatevahs."

_You notice the slave isn't looking at any of you, or anything at all for that matter. Her eyes are milky._

"I took Born Blind and Aquaphobia as my Flaws," Toph explained. "I wanted a geokinetic with maxed out combat abilities. See my sheet?"

Katara was aghast. "She's - she's a munchkin! How can you allow that?"

_I run a big tent._

Toph asked, "Wanna farm my bodyguards for XP?"

"GRRRRRRAAH!"


	92. 9 Sequels

**Summary: **A series of follow-ups to the nine fics posted this year, in celebration of the three year anniversary of _The Fun and Perky Warrior's Wolf Tail_. Some are longer than others, but there's a little something for everything I've published in 2012.

* * *

.

**9 Sequels**

.

* * *

**83. **_**Dark Mirror Sukka**_**; or, the one where we meet Sokka and Suki's goatee-wearing doubles.**

Sokka tried to work his slack jaw. Unlike the two other people in the room, his breath wasn't forming misty puffs in the chill air of the shipwreck's brig. Sokka simply was too shocked to breathe, and even almost lost his footing on the tilted deck.

Eventually, he found the means to work his jaw. "You're trying to kill me... because I lost Space Sword? That's it?"

The prisoner chuckled, although with his bruised ribs it came out as something of a wheeze. "That's only the half of it, but yeah."

"Worst. Arch-nemesis. Ever!"

"And that sort of thinking is the other half. You treat the treasure you lost as thoughtlessly as you praise the teacher who dishonored you."

"Hey, it was MY Space Sword, so if anyone has a right to feel bad about losing it, it's me, yeah?"

"Don't untie him if he agrees with you," Suki prompted.

"Do I look like the Bad Idea Lord?"

"I was planning on desecrating your corpse anyway, so if you'd like I can give you the scar." Lee tested his chains. Shackled to a chair bolted to the floor, he had little range of movement. "Because next time, your girlfriend won't be around to save you."

Sokka planted a snow boot on the seated prisoner's lap. Leaning over, he said, "Lemme guess. Because next time, you'll take her out first, right? I'd like to see you try."

"Me too," Suki added, her smirk a touch feral.

"I'm not doing anything to her," Lee said. "Kirai is."

Suki's eyes went wide. Sokka, focused on his trussed up prisoner, missed her reaction. "Who's Kirai? Your girlfriend?"

"Yes, actually."

"Uh-huh. Is she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Strong warrior?"

"Like none other."

Sokka nodded. "Uh-huh. Too bad she lives all the way in Ba Sing Se and we can't meet her, right?"

"Oh, you'll meet her very soon. It'll be a regular family reunion, won't it, Suki?" Lee put on a look of mock astonishment. "Oops. Did he not know?"

"Know what?" Sokka asked.

Suki cleared her throat, not meeting his eyes.

"Know _what_?"

"Kirai is, well... ah..."

"Her sister," Lee explained.

"What? Her _sister_?"

"Yes."

"You have A SISTER?!"

"It's complicated," Suki offered lamely.

"A SISTER?!"

Lee tugged futilely on his chains again. "Do you mean she never told you the tale? To amuse her lover? No? Never told you how Suki of Kyoshi Island stole her older sister's command and had her exiled?"

"That's a lie!" Suki got up in Lee's face. "I treated Kirai with due respect, and then she betrayed me and our people!"

Sokka put a gloved hand on her shoulder. "Suki, relax. He probably just heard your sister's name some place and wants to make you angry."

"Did I mention she's an earthbender?" Lee added. "She's a pretty decent one. In fact, she just picked up a new trick in the colonies."

Sokka and Suki stared at him.

"...Hurray for her?" Sokka said.

Lee banged his foot on the deck. "That was your cue, woman!"

And with that, his chains exploded into life.

The now-living metal snapped at Sokka and Suki, leaping off Lee's limbs to coil around theirs. The prisoner rose off the brig's rusty interrogation chair.

"Now," said Lee, picking up his own sword from the corner of the brig and unsheathing it, "where were we?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**84. **_**Seeing Red**_**; or, the one where Kori gets a taste of the glorious motherland.**

"But we won!"

"Yes, and...?"

"We _won_," Kori stressed, looming over the conference table without even realizing she had rocketed to her feet, "and we're _still_ not going to be a part of the Fire Nation anymore? What sort of victory is that!"

Fire Lord Zuko's worn face tightened. "The kind that avoids another war, and let's the colonists keep their homes."

"We didn't stand up to the Avatar and the Earth King just so you could stab us in the back - again! This is the Harmony Restoration Movement by any other name!" Kori slammed an open palm down on the table. "You're asking us to abandon our loyalty to the Ten Thousand Year Throne for a... a _republic_!"

"Believe me, I like radicalism even less than you, but we don't have a better choice. At least I talked the Avatar down from having the council democratically appointed."

"What about a co-dominion? You can't find a noble in each country to marry and govern us?" Before Zuko could reply, she preempted him. "But that would mean putting someone else on a throne to rule some of the Fire People, and you can't risk having someone to be compared you to, can you? So you're selling the colonies out, and stripping loyal families like mine of their rank!"

Zuko loosened his tight fists. After drawing in a breath, he said, "I could have you arrested for saying things like-"

"Fine!" Kori shouted. "Arrest me for telling the truth!"

"-but since you're technically not one of my subjects anymore, I can't. So if you have problems with a foreign government like my own, I suggest taking it up with your representative on the United Republic of Nation's council."

Kori glowered at him.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**85. **_**An Avatar of Mars**_**; or, the one that darn well lives up to the label of Future Fic.**

_Huo Hsing was an old world. Fourth planet from the sun, it had breathed out its last billions of years ago, content to rust in the darkness while its neighbor one orbit in lived on to flourish. _

_It was tectonically dead, old impact scars enduring a thousand million years of sandstorm scouring. It had no ineffable spark to regulate its rhythms; unlike Earth, Huo Hsing was a mad place where it could be winter in one hemisphere and summer in the other._

_Yet now, after an eternal death that had in fact been merely a long sleep, Huo Hsing was stirring. The process had begun before the terraforming started; before its ice caps had been melted, or its thick crust cracked to provide moholes, or comets hurled into its thin atmosphere to thicken it._

_Huo Hsing was alive because of the people who had come there to live and die, and now the Red Planet had an Avatar of its own._

* * *

. . .

* * *

Fire. Air. Water. Earth.

Rei Yoruno could bend all four elements. It had taken her the better part of a quarter century, by old-style counting, to master those arts. She had no past lives to fall back on, no impossible muscle memory guiding her. And for all her tireless effort, the first Avatar of the Red Planet often found herself silently grappling with her fears for the point of it all.

On Huo Hsing, firebending was mostly a liability, a thief of precious oxygen. Before she had airbent for the first time, Rei had spent all her time essentially learning _not_ to firebend. Dragon's breath might be good for keeping one warm in a sealskin exosuit, but that was an advanced skill. Only the best were alloted the necessary oxygen rations to refine their firebending, and Rei's abilities had always been somehow lacking, even by a non-Avatar's standards.

Electricity was what the colonists needed, and not for nothing did Rei's agemates comment how odd it was that 'Fire' was considered an element when clearly 'Lightning' was far more common on their world.

On Huo Hsing, airbending was a pointless art. There were too few airbenders to allow them to undertake the long, risky journey between planets, where an errant solar flare could sterilize or kill the passengers. Never mind that the atmosphere on Huo Hsing was still far too thin for airbenders to move about as they did back on Earth.

Rei herself had adapted most of the airbending moves used on Huo Hsing, relying on instructional vids streamed from Earth and scanlations of antique Air Nomad scrolls. She found no practical use for the art outside of the habitats. Even then, she didn't like to fly around with it. A native-born woman like her needed every bit of exercise she could get to maintain her naturally weak muscles on her homeworld's low gravity. Ghosting around with airbending just meant she had to compensate with more time in the gym later.

Earthbending and waterbending, those abilities were precious for expanding the colonies; digging new habitat levels ever-deeper into the crust, expanding the web of canals that criss-crossed their dry, dusty world.

Rei Yoruno could bend all four elements. She didn't need them all, and in fact rarely used two of them outside of her dojo.

But she was still not the Avatar yet.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Huo Hsing has no Spirit World, as far as we know."

"Assuming there's more than one," another sage piped up. "We don't know that."

The head White Lotus officer shot his companion a dirty look. "We can argue metaphysics later. The _point_, Avatar, is that you cannot be considered fully realized until you master the Avatar State. To do that, you need to connect with your spiritual side."

Rei simply nodded. Yet another hoop to jump through. That was not unexpected.

"After much debate, we've resolved that the problem of timing is no problem at all. Our world always has two seasons at once. So what if one pole should be at the summer solstice while the other is at the winter solstice? No, the real issue is location. Our world is a dead place coming to life, but it lacks spiritual places, oases, proper shrines. So we've compiled a list of candidate locations for you to meditate on the solstice and reach across worlds."

After reviewing the tablet's list, Rei was unimpressed. Mountaintops. Valley bottoms. Caves. The Avatar thought it likely the White Lotus had simply copied a wiki listing of notable locations on their world and retitled it.

"What about people?" she asked. "We brought life to this world, or maybe just woke it up. Shouldn't wherever I meditate reflect that?"

The White Lotus officers glanced at one another. Perhaps it was her lifetime of living with the practical implications of metaphysical questions, like whether she would even reincarnate after death into a new Avatar, or be reborn as-is with continuity of memory, that gave her the perspective they lacked. Sometimes she felt apart from them, as she was a nativeborn and they were Earthborn. What Rei knew for certain was that the sages would bicker over theoretical minutia all day if she let them, and she had no time to waste today. She was already one extension deep into her term paper on the history of the United Republic's Second Democratic Experiment, and desperately wanted to give her incomplete rough draft another pass.

"I have somewhere specific in mind," she lied.

"Where?" their leader asked.

One place being as good as any other on a world without history, she offered the first answer that came to mind.

"Yeah," their leader said, "that's not gonna happen."

* * *

. . .

* * *

It did, in fact, not happen.

The colonial leadership had never been wildly enthusiastic about their own Avatar, treating her more as a mild celebrity than anyone of note. The veneration they had shown Earth's Avatar during his visit several years back to aid in terraforming the planet had taught Rei that much.

She, like Huo Hsing, had no real history. The government wasn't going to let her traipse around their world's one real heritage site: the First Landing, where humans had initially set foot on this world. They were, however, perfectly happy to suggest an "equally significant" landing site for her to meditate at and possibly damage to her heart's content.

It was a spot far out in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of kilometers from the nearest outpost, let along full-fledged colony. Over a century ago the first robotic probe had landed there, in the middle of a planet-wide dust storm, and managed to transmit all of seventy lines of data from one photo before going silent. It had offered nothing scientifically important or useable. The scrambled, incomplete photo itself was little more than a blur, and was only important because it was the first image transmitted from the surface of this world back to Earth.

The probe itself had been titled, in a show of immense creativity, _Huo Hsing II._

Ultra-fine sand crunching under her boot soles, Rei ambled around the heritage site, GPS in one hand and earthbending with her other, digging the probe out from the sand dune that had buried it. She moved slowly, not wanting to damage the probe. It might have just been a historical footnote, but that just provided a sense of empathy in her mind.

It took the better part of two hours to find and excavate it. The coordinates hadn't been exactly correct, and, lest her briefly exposed skin get bruised and frostbit by the thin cold air, she had to burn valuable oxygen from her reserve tank for a flaming punch into the ground to activate her tremor sense. Still, she found it, and that's all that mattered.

The faded Earth Kingdom flag emblazoned on its scorched, pitted casing barely registered as green under the cold bronze sun. The color was a foreign one to Huo Hsing, and Rei Yoruno found her eyes drawn to it magnetically.

Belatedly, she snapped a pic of the long-forgotten probe. If nothing else, it meant she had something small to show for the time wasted today.

Alone for far around, Rei settled into as best a lotus form as she could manage in a spacesuit. Even in her heated, gengineered sealskin suit it was a tricky prospect. She tabbed off her radio and satellite link, leaving just her, her oxygen tank, and the faint whistling of the thin wind outside her suit.

Time to meditate.

* * *

. . .

* * *

Several hours later, Rei woke up to the safety alarm on her oxygen tank. A stiff walk to her rover netted a fresh tank. Her hand hovered over the uplink toggle, but she wasn't willing to give up yet, if only because it would entail thinking about what came next.

Sometimes, she wished Avatar Yinsen was still around to talk with, but he had gone back to Earth years ago, and besides that was three years dead. The homeworld's next Avatar wouldn't appear for years, and what would Rei have to say to a child?

Yinsen, though, had been the real deal. Old school sage. He hadn't even taken any of the gen or trans mods, not even for his failing vision. He'd worn _glasses_ like someone out of an old-timey vid.

Settling back in front of the decrepit probe, Rei tried to meditate again in the silence. She tried mulling the history of this probe, how it had flown millions of miles across the gulf of space on calculations done by hand using something called a 'slide ruler', how the scientists who built it must have been so disappointed by the failure of their probe, embodied in a lousy seventy-line scrambled image.

All that effort, Rei mused to herself, and it didn't even have the dignity of being a _complete _failure.

* * *

. . .

* * *

Eventually, two days and many tanks of oxygen later, Rei climbed back into her rover. Her body was crusty with dried sweat inside its sealskin suit, her catheter had begun to itch something fierce, and the food bars and recycled water she had subsisted on had grown too vile for her even to glance at.

Avatar Rei kept her communicator silenced for the return drive. There would be time to confront her failure later. For now she sat in the driver's cabin, a computer chauffeuring her back to the nearest outpost for refueling, and stared out at the dunes and rocks and clouds that passed by.

Perhaps there was no Spirit World here on Huo Hsing. Or maybe she simply lacked the proper conviction to let go of her material self and transcend this reality. Rei really didn't know, and, if she had to be honest with herself, and after nearly three days alone in the wilderness it felt impossible not to be, she was past caring.

Even if she had entered the Spirit World, what good would it do to help her master her Avatar State? She was the first Avatar of the Red Planet, and had a grand total of one unfinished lifetime's power and knowledge to call on. Her successor, if she had one, would at least get something out of the process, even if gave them the grand total of one person's bending to back up their own.

Rei Yoruno was tired of jumping through an endless series of hoops. She was a little over thirteen years old now, by new-style counting using Huo Hsing's years. How long had she lingered at university, splitting her time between her studies and things that didn't really matter? Years. _Real_ years. Red Planet years.

When she got back home, there would be no more White Lotus academic debates or endless practice sessions. It would be onto the things that actually mattered in life: school, her friends, a career.

Let whatever would happen, happen. Rei was done staring at old, dead things.

* * *

. . .

* * *

_Huo Hsing was stirring. _

_The process had begun before its ice caps had been melted into fresh seas, or its crust cracked to unleash the molten heat within._

_Huo Hsing was alive because of the people who had come there to live and die, and now the Red Planet had an Avatar of its own._

* * *

. . .

* * *

**86. **_**The Fire Lances**_**; or, the one where Iroh meets Captain Kirk.**

_Captain's log, stardate 5992.8. The recovery of Shuttlecraft Kurihama is complete. With the natives deprived of their "fire lances," we leave Bryke-3 behind to continue with its endless war. _

"Good riddance," Bones said. On the main viewscreen, this week's strange new world was already receding beyond visual range. "I never imagined there were so many ways a body could be burned or crushed, but I suppose even barbarians can teach you something new."

An arched eyebrow. "Barbarians, Doctor? The Brykians hardly lacked the organization and social structure the label of 'barbarian' implies."

"That's what makes it so terrible, Spock. The same people who built something magnificent like that Outer Wall could fight and murder each other for a hundred years."

"According to our best reconstruction of historical records: ninety-five years, four months, nineteen-"

"That's not the point, you pointy-earred hobgoblin!"

The captain swiveled around in his chair. "Bones, Spock is right."

"The hell he is!"

"My logic is perfectly transparent, Doctor."

"Who are we to damn them as barbarians?" James T. Kirk posed his doctor friend. "The Post-Atomic Horror. The Eugenics Wars. World War Two. We were killers once upon a time, Bones, but we learned to listen to the better angels of our nature. Maybe General Iroh will too."

"We didn't go in reverse, Jim. The thing that makes me sore is how the Brykians didn't even used to fight all the time."

Spock nodded. "Ah yes, the Avatar. A fascinating religious concept, Doctor, but one lacking in evidence."

McCoy snorted in derision. "Faith isn't about logic, Spock! Those people held up peace and diplomacy as the ultimate virtues, had their holy figure champion them, and then they lost it all to one madman's ambition."

Kirk pointed at his Southern friend. "And faith is _exactly_ the point, Bones. The Brykians lived in peace once, and maybe one day they will again. We have to hope they'll remember the virtues you admired from their history."

"I suppose so, Jim. But they know how destructive science can become. What's to stop them from learning to build their own wonder weapons now?"

"Nothing," Spock replied. "Yet logic dictates that there is nothing to stop General Iroh from spreading knowledge about the Federation's belief in infinite diversity in infinite combinations. The Brykians could very well make the 'United Federation of Nations' a reality."

Captain Kirk grinned. "That sounds more like faith than logic, Spock."

"Who knows?" asked Bones. "We might just make a human out of you yet."

Everybody laughed, except Spock.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**87. **_**On the Wagon**_**; or, the one with an addiction metaphor. **

"Ahh! Master Piandao, what brings you to my humble tea shop this fine sunny day?"

"Your nephew unilaterally broke the Harmony Restoration Treaty, is refusing to evacuate any more colonies, is moving troops back from the Fire Nation, and, according to our most trusted agents, is taking midnight conferences with his father on how to run the country."

"..."

"We were really hoping you could talk some sense into him. Or lead a coup. Whichever works."

"...Now where did I put that bottle?"

"I wasn't aware they bottled tea."

"They don't!"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**88. **_**The King Is Dead, Long Live the King**_**; or, the one where the Fire Nation is utterly screwed.**

"Princess Azula, do you believe in angels?"

She had, of course, never considered such an insipid idea. That angels did not exist was as transparent a truth as, for example, how Ty Lee liked to wear a lot of pink. One simply had to have a clear eye for the world around themselves to see such things, and Azula had dragon's eyes, predator's eyes.

The man before her, however, was one of those rare examples that just might have her believing in angels. On the surface he was dressed as a merchant of modest means: simple black clothes, a nearly maintained black goatee, and the only jewelry he wore was a a simple seal ring (also, of course, black). He wielded his chopsticks with a vivisection's practiced eye, dissecting his dinner plate. Here was a man without wasted motion, or even the care to waste money on himself. Self-assured, certainly, but the world had no shortage of such men.

It did have a shortage of Earth Kings, though.

King Vetinari - such an odd name, that - paid her no special attention as they dined alone, with only his little yappy dog, currently sitting patiently at attention for table scraps, for protection.

Unostentatious. Spare. Modest. Not at all what Azula would have ever suspected in any specimen of royalty, let alone one so infamously pompous as the Earth King. But then Vetinari was a mystery, one somehow been overlooked in the purges before his predecessor Kuei's unexpected death, and who had spent the last five years tinkering with his own city while the world burned beyond its walls.

Here was a nobody who became a somebody, and felt the part in an austere way, yet seemed to have no great ambition beyond trumpeting tawdry little projects like 'subterranean semaphores' and same-day _postal delivery._ The paradox boggled the mind.

"Angels?" she repeated. "No, but I have an open mind."

"That's a good skill to profess to have, Lady Azula. It invite people to share themselves with you, because, as we both know, people love to talk about the thing that matters most to them in the world."

Azula smiled. She picked up a wine glass from the long table between them. "That's an awfully cynical way of looking at the world, Your Majesty."

She sipped, and nearly spat out her first mouthful.

Lychee _juice_? Did she look like a toddler?

"You're underage," the Earth King said, answering her unspoken question. "I want you perfectly sober for this conversation, and besides the press would throw a self-righteous fit at 'juvenile delinquency' in the palace.

"I'm your greatest enemy," she pointed out. "Why should they care what I drink?"

He faintly smirked, as if indulging her that title, and returned to the topic at hand. "Angels, Lady Azula, possess two interesting aspects. The first is that sometimes an angel will take a man back in time to where everything went wrong in his life, and give him the opportunity to do set right what went wrong."

"Is this the part where I ask about the second?"

"That is that only come _once_," the Earth King replied.

So. That was the game.

Azula mimed checking her nails. At least the Kyoshi Warrior uniform hadn't forced her to wear awful nail polish. Ty Lee was always such a chatterbox when she scrubbed Azula's nails clean that it almost made the princess want to apply and remove her own nail polish, like a peasant. Almost. "If you're going to try and convince me what a horrible person I am, there's no need. I'm a monster, obviously. Why run from that?"

That smirk again. "Of course."

"So are you a timebender or something?"

"No, Lady Azula, today I'm an angel, and I'd like to make a jog proposition to you. I would very much like you to consider becoming my Grand Secretariat."

"You... what?"

He steepled his long, slim fingers. "I believe it would be a good learning experience for you, ahead of your assumption of the Fire Nation's throne, to have some practical experience in day-to-day governance. I also have been wanting to reform our secret police, the Dai Li, who've been rudderless since the unfortunate demise of their previous head after I had him assassinated. They traditionally report to the Grand Secretariat."

Azula checked her wine glass again, just to be sure it had really been juice.

"You are, of course, entirely in your rights to refuse this employment opportunity, and to show the sincerity of my offer let me point to that door behind you." He did so, not that Azula turned her head. She wasn't like his little dog, to be commanded at a whim. "If at any point in this job interview you feel you wish to leave, you have only to step throught it and you will never hear from me again."

"And then what? A legion of guards cuts me down? Or maybe there's no floor behind the door and you'll have me fall into a bottomless pit."

Now he really did smile. "Hardly bottomless."

"So either I commit suicide, or I take over your government for you. Are you insane or just stupid?"

"You may be taking over the government, even in the name of your father if you prefer, but I think you'll find that Ba Sing Se's government, thanks to my reforms, is entirely capable of running itself in spite of having an insane, power-hungry leader at the helm."

For half a second, Azula almost thought it sounded like Vetinari was using her to perform a stress-test on his system of government, but she dismissed the thought almost as soon as it occurred to her. Insane this Earth King might have been, but that idea went beyond stupidity and entered into the realm of diabolicalness. Whether that was of an insane or genius nature, Azula didn't know, nor did she care to waste precious brain power on which it ultimately was.

"Okay," she said, "I'll do it. But Mai and Ty Lee have to be my deputies.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Vetinari said, "given that the only member of the Dai Li left is a Joo Dee who rather liked being ordered around by men in uniform to cater to their every whim. To each their own, as the nebulous 'they' say."

"You- you can brainwash people? Really?"

"Not anymore. Dong Min, the good doctor who designed the process, rather unfortunately did not believe in angels..."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**89. **_**AtLA 500 in 500: Rival Bid!Part 2 of ?**_**; or, the one I'm not actually writing a sequel to.**

Seriously, they're fifty one or two sentence fills. Screw that.

* * *

. . .

* * *

**90. **_**Based on a True Story**_**; or, the one with overly twee commentary on the AtLA finale.**

"We found more paper's in the playwright's home. Apparently he was working on a sequel."

The captain of Ember Island's local guard surveyed the smoldering ruin of the theater. There would be no more plays put on this spot for quite a while. "What was it about? More weird treason, I bet."

"No, that's the thing. Apparently it takes place a year after the war's end, and Fire Lord Zuko-"

The captain snorted at the very though.

"-turns against the Avatar for the sake of preserving the colonies against Earth Kingdom revanchist claims."

"Nice to see you're using that Word a Day calender I bought you."

"Shut up. Sir. Anyway, Fire Lord Zuko ends up convincing the Avatar of the righteousness of the Fire Nation civilizing the hopelessly backwards Dirt People, and lets us keep the land after setting up a puppet 'united republic' with token independence."

"That... is literally _the stupidest thing I've ever heard_. And I was in the theater last night when that lion-turtle taught the Avatar how to take away people's bending."

"I believe you mean 'figuratively', sir."

"No. No I don't."

* * *

. . .

* * *

**91. **_**Dice & Dharma**_**; or, the one that's a rip-off of Darth & Droids.**

_"Hello, Zuko here." The devilish prince offers you a jaunty wave. You notice his clothes are hardly benefiting someone of his station: simple exercise garments, cut in Fire Nation colors but otherwise the sort of thing you'd only see worn in a dojo. "I know you must be surprised to see me here."_

"No we're not," said Jack. "You've followed us all around the world."

_"That's right," Zuko replies. "I have, but today I'm not here to fight. I'm here to offer you a humble proposal. I train the Avatar in firebending, and in exchange you put me on the throne after my father is dead."_

Mae whistled, long and low. "Wow. And I thought the session Jessica ran had some hardcore railroading."

"Get over it it, britches! At least my session finally got us to caught through all that boring intrigue and just storm the Earth King's palace."

"It was courtly drama!"

"Whatevahs."

_Zuko clears his throat. "You see, there was some, ah, trouble back home, and my place in the chain of succession is now questionable."_

Zach rubbed his chin, then snapped his fingers as a thought occurred to him. "So that's why you abandoned Azula! You wanted us to kill her while you were busy assassinating your own father when he was powerless during the eclipse! We'd be in your debt, and you'd want us to put you in charge of the Fire Nation!"

_"You've got me dead to rights, Avatar." Zuko smiles in that affable debonair manner that has helped him criss-cross the world. Yet respect glimmers in his golden eyes. "What can I say? After wasting three years babysitting my disgraced uncle in his exile, the thought of waiting a few decades for my old man to drop dead of exhaustion was too much."_

"You're completely insane," Mae declared.

_Zuko runs a hand through his loose hair. "Far from it. I want the Fire Lord gone, and like you I'm willing to do whatever it takes to see that happen. That's what I admire about you, Team Avatar. Your willingness to go to extremes in order to get what you want. It is a quality we both share."_

Jack planted a fist into his waiting palm. "I threaten Zuko with my boomerang."

"Roll."

"...hot damn!"

_Natural 20. Zuko is rattled._

"I don't trust him," Zach said. "He admits to trying to kill his father and sister, and he's chased us all around the world."

_Zuko grows a bit frantic at the negative responses he's getting. "I can tell you where and when, exactly, the next major offensive against the Earth Kingdom will be launched! My father will be personally leading it as a way to regain face from the Black Moon Invasion. Think about it. No palace to storm. No fallback bunker to vanish into. Just some flunky bodyguards, fighting on unfamiliar ground, between you and your target. He'd be practically naked!"_

"I attack Zuko with my waterbending." Mae rolled some dice. "And - 19 - hit him hard for critical damage."

_Zuko doesn't resist_. _Waterlogged and sprawled out on the temple ground, he pleads, "Please! I have connections! I have valuable intelligence! I - I'll even tell you about the dragons! I have nowhere else to go! I can't live as an exile like my uncle!"_

_"..."_

_"Well?"_

"Choo-choo!" hooted Jessica. "All aboard!"

"Get the hell out of here," Mae ordered.

_Prince Zuko slinks off, defeated_.

"Tonight," Jessica said, "I'm gonna sneak into his camp, knife him and gank his loot."

_Of course you are. *sigh* Time for Plan B..._


	93. Two Lessons

**A/N:** _Character Swap AU time..._

.

**Two Lessons**

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* * *

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Stop.

Toph of the Water Tribe paused in the doorway, one hand holding the frame and the other gripping her long whalebone walking cane. "Sorry, ladies. Didn't mean to interrupt your little dance lesson." Slowly, she walked inside the dojo. "I was looking for somewhere to get a little workout."

Suki ignored her teammates' raised eyebrows. "Well, you're in the right place."

The Southerner's icy blue eyes made for a sharp contrast against her dusky complextion. They also failed to focus on Suki when she spoke. Instead Toph just stared off at a blank section of wall.

"Sorry about yesterday," the Kyoshi Warrior continued. "I didn't know you were friends with the Avatar."

"So if I hadn't been Aang's friend, you wouldn't be sorry about beating up a blind girl?"

Suki's face burned beneath its war paint. "W-what? No! Of course not!"

"I'm not sure I can believe someone who threatened to feed a helpless blind girl to a sea monster."

"Well, I- I've ALREADY apologized! You can't hold that over me!" Suki crossed her arms. "I didn't know you were blind then. If I had, I would've gone easy on you!"

"Oh?"

The other Kyoshi Warriors nodded along. "That's right. Our order is dedicated to upholding justice and defending the weak."

"So now I'm weak."

Suki felt the wind in her sails now. "Not weak, exactly, but even you admit you're blind!"

"Wow." Toph slung her walking stick across her shoulders. She still wasn't bothering to face Suki when she spoke. "All this girl talk has been fun, but I was hoping to work up a little sweat. Mind showing me some of your moves?"

"I don't think that's really-"

"Please? Just one quick lesson."

"...All right. You stand over there." Suki took Toph by the shoulders and repositioned her, so she would fall on the mat and not the hard floor. "This may be a little tough, but _try_ to block me."

While she had no intention of seriously hurting the girl, Suki didn't slow her punch. Much. To do otherwise would have been an insult to the Art.

In a single fluid motion, Toph stepped aside from the punch's path and smashed that solid bone cane down on her extended arm. Suki fell to one knee with an agonized cry.

"Lesson one," Toph quipped sweetly. "Blind don't mean helpless."

Suki swept out a leg, knocking the other girl down, and then jumped her. She used Toph's own cane to pin her by the neck. "Lesson two, don't start fights you can't win!"

Reddening from suffocation, Toph hissed out, "Teach me how."

"Don't say ridiculous things!"

Toph spat in her face.

Suki eased off and took a measured breath. Because otherwise she'd eagerly crush the foreigner's windpipe.

"I need to protect my sister," Toph rasped, rubbing her throat. "Teach me how."

"...I can respect that," Suki finally said. "Don't spit on me again."

"Yeah, well, same here."

They both stood up on their own.


End file.
